


Colourblind No More

by pacifyingtae



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternative chapter, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Job, Coma, First Kiss, First Time, Heartbreak, His Last Vow, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Miss Me?, Sentimental Mycroft, Sentimental Sherlock, Soulmate AU, Villain Mary, Vulnerable Sherlock, another ending, black and white, little bit of violance, mention of violence, tarmac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8231716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacifyingtae/pseuds/pacifyingtae
Summary: Moriarty is back and Sherlock has to find a way to stop him once and for all. The heartbreak will make it all much harder. With a sudden twist, Sherlock meets Moriarty once again, but can he stop the Consulting Criminal this time or is this the final end for the Consulting Detective?





	1. Comeback

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS AN UNEXPECTED SEQUEL TO "COLOURBLIND", SO PLEASE GO READ THAT FIRST.
> 
> If you want to hurt yourself more, listen to Sherlock Soundtrack Season 3 'Addicted To Certain Life Style' (JUST SAYIN)
> 
> Ok, maybe this is not accurate Sherlock, but I'm sorry, I try as hard as I can.

"John, there's something... I should say; I-I've meant to say always and then never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now." He hesitates for a long time, then draws in a deep breath and raises his eyes to John's.

But no words come out. Sherlock just slowly walks closer to John and slightly bends down to reach for John's hand. When their hands collide, their heart races quicken. Sherlock looks around and everything is so clear now. He sees every colors so bright and he knows why. He finally knows. He smiles and looks down at John who is staring at him, his pupils dilated.

"Do you see it too?" Sherlock whispers to John. John slowly looks around. Then his eyes find Sherlock's again and he silently says:

"What do you mean?" and that's when Sherlock's world came crushing down. That's when Sherlock's smile dropped. That was the moment Sherlock knew that John was his soulmate, but Sherlock isn't John's.  Because John is happy with another woman he chose to spend his life with.

Sherlock just slowly backed away and walked into the plane without another word.

When the plane was up in the sky, Sherlock let his tears go. He was shaking and silently crying, trying to wipe away the tears, but there were just more coming.

John was Sherlock's soulmate.

But Sherlock wasn't John's.

 

* * *

 

_Did you miss me?_

_Did you miss me?_

The words echoed through the whole England. Greg was in a bar, watching soccer, while the image changed. It was unclear in the start, but then the words rang. Greg's face dropped when he saw who was on the TV.

In 221B, Mrs. Hudson was vacuuming the living room. Since Sherlock left, she figured that it would be great to clean the place a little bit. She has the TV turned on while she walks around the flat with vacuum cleaner. As Mrs. Hudson was facing the TV, she heard both pitched and deepened voices saying the same over and over again. She raised her head and when she took a good look, screams of fear escaped her lips.

Molly was just about to leave her work, but the last minute she decided to stay for a little bit longer. The TV was on, showing news and weather while she made herself coffee and while it was making, decided to go to the bathroom. She just walked out of the room to hear only four words. Molly turned to look at the TV and her heart's beating quickened in fear, her face full of horror.

_Did you miss me?_

The words echoed through the whole England.

 

* * *

 

"But that's not possible." Mycroft says it into the phone as he opens the door of the car and climbs out. "That is simply not possible." he looks at Mary and John that are holding hands. He slightly frowns. John walks toward Mycroft, noticing how his face changed into something that was supposed to look like fear.

"What's happened?"

 

Back in the plane, Sherlock has his face in his hands, trying to hide his pain. As much as he tried, he couldn't stop crying. Not this time. He can't shut it off. It hurts too much. This is what he feared the most. The tears roll down, as much as Sherlock tried to stop them. Stop all of this. He was slightly shaking, silently sobbing. Sherlock heard somebody walk, but he ignored it.

"Sir?" he heard a man say. Sherlock breathed in and held in a sob. He wiped his eyes and looked up. The man was holding a phone towards him. "It's your brother." Sherlock slowly leans in to take the phone. He slightly coughs to clear his throat and answers it.

"Mycroft?" his voice is not strong enough, it's shaking and Sherlock is scared that Mycroft will notice. He's not stupid, he will.

"Hello, little brother. How is the exile going?" Sherlock tries to stay cool and answers without expressing an emotions:

"I've only been gone four minutes." Mycroft chuckles a little bit, but he knows it's no time for fun. Sherlock begins to wonder what Mycroft wants, he just sent him out of the country. Tears are still rolling down his cheek, as he desperately tries to wipe them.

"Well, I certainly hope you've learned your lesson. As it turns out, you're needed." Sherlock's heart stops for a little second and he instantly thinks that something happened to John, but he has to calm down. He keeps it cool and answers sharply:

"Oh, for God's sake. Make up your mind. Who needs me this time?" On the next side, Sherlock hears his brother sigh. Mycroft looks to the front of the car to see a small TV screen that was set into the dashboard. On the screen there could be seen a picture of Jim Moriarty facing the camera, two words written on the screen: **Miss me?**

"England." says Mycroft to answer his brother. Sherlock doesn't know what that means, but he is relieved it's nothing to do with John. From Mycroft's answer it was obvious he is coming back. Suddenly he hears Mycroft silently say, three words only: "He is back." which makes Sherlock's heart stop. He lets out a shaky breath and slowly nods, even if Mycroft can't see him. He ended the conversation and looked through the window.  Sherlock just now realized that he will have to face John again. Sherlock's heart jumps at the thought of him. Now he really needs to take a hold of himself. He quickly jumps out of his seat and runs to the bathroom to look at himself. His eyes are sure a bit red, so he quickly washed his face even if it will have no use. He controls his breathing, breathing in and out, calming himself down and slowly concealing his feeling. After all, Sherlock comes back to his seat, because they will be landing soon. 

When the plane finally lands, Sherlock has calmed down already. He put his feelings away and focused on what is coming. He finally jumps out of his seat, his face is put in a cold expression. Taking his coat, Sherlock walks out of it to be met with Mary, John and Mycroft. He smiles at them coldly and says:

"Miss me?" then walks down the little stairs. They all walk to him. For sure, Mycroft and John are examining his face and Sherlock knows there are little signs of crying, but conceals everything. John seems to catch up.

"Sherlock? You all right?" John slowly ask. Sherlock doesn't look at John and starts walking to the car that is supposed to take him home. They all follow and Sherlock slowly answers:

"Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?" John knows Sherlock too well to know when he is lying and he actually was.

"So Moriarty is alive?" Mary asks oblivious. Sherlock shakes his head and turns back to look at them.

"Of course not, he blew his head. No one survives that." Mary nodded, but Sherlock seemed to notice a little flick in Mary, as if she knew something. He didn't trust her completely now, so he made sure to remember that. "He's not alive, but he is _back_." They started walking towards the car again.

"So what is he going to do now?" John asked. He really wanted all this to end, he wanted a simple break. But also didn't. Sherlock stopped in front of the car and slowly turned to Mary and John, as Mycroft walked to the other side of the car and sat in it.

"I don't know." Sherlock slowly said. He honestly didn't know. It's obvious Moriarty will want to end Sherlock for good, but other than that, nothing. He slowly turns away and climbs into the car. John wants to grab Sherlock's hand, to say something. He wants to come with him, to the flat, to 221B, but he is stopped. Mary is here. She is his wife and he now has responsibilities. If Sherlock will need John, he will call him, right?

That's what he thought the last time. And Sherlock never called. Neither did John. Then Sherlock started using drugs again. John can't let that happen. He doesn't know what to do.

Sherlock sits down and closes the door. The car starts driving. Mycroft looks at his little brother and even if Sherlock is good at hiding his feelings, he knows that his brother was hurt, he can see it. That was what Mycroft feared the first time he met Dr. Watson.

"He is the one, isn't he?" Mycroft slowly asked his brother. Sherlock was avoiding Mycroft's look, looking through the window. He didn't say anything, tried to avoid this as much as possible. The pain was too strong, Sherlock wanted to be back at the flat as soon as possible, so he could be alone. Mycroft spoke again "Sherlock..."

"Yes." he heard a silent answer. Mycroft's heart dropped a little, while he saw Sherlock let out a shaky breath.

"And are you..?" Mycroft didn't finish the sentence, but Sherlock knew what he was asking. He just looked down and closed his eyes. It was hard for Mycroft to see his brother in so much pain. What was Mycroft to do, he never did, maybe back in their childhood. Mycroft slowly hugged Sherlock, not caring about his sentiments showing. Sherlock was hurt, the worst pain possible, and Mycroft couldn't do anything about it. Sherlock kept his eyes shut, but tears started to roll down his face again. For the first time in forever, he was glad Mycroft was here. Somebody he could really trust, without John. He tried to get rid of the thought of John, but as much as Sherlock tried not to think about the doctor, he started thinking more and more, his chest clenching with the pain. Sherlock lot out a silenced sob, as he held into Mycroft as hard as he could.

"I was there for you before. I’ll be there for you again." Mycroft held shaking Sherlock closer to him. He knew that this won't help his brother with the pain, but Mycroft wanted to show that he is here for him, no matter what. "I’ll _always_ be there for you." he whispered. Sherlock was shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, Mycroft." Sherlock said, his voice breaking. Mycroft's chest clenched when he heard the words. "I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered again and continued to say it over and over again.

 

_Did you miss me?_

_Did you miss me?_

The words echoed through the whole England.


	2. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary is driven to hospital, while John makes a phone call for help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sucks and I don't like it myself but enjoy *evil laugh*

It was a peaceful evening. It's been few weeks since Moriarty came back. John hasn't seen Sherlock since then either. He thought, maybe Sherlock was too busy trying to find out what Moriarty was up to next. Sadly, John didn't know the real truth. Yes, Sherlock kept John updated, at least a little bit. But John felt like Sherlock was avoiding him.

John cursed at himself for thinking about all of this, while he was making dinner. Mary had a bigger stomach now and it was harder for her to move so John sometimes did things for her. This time, he made dinner for both of them.

John walked into the room fo find Mary reading a book. He slowly walked to her. Mary looked up at John and smiled at him, but he didn't return the smile. He stopped in front of her chair and extended his hand to help her stand. She gladly took it and with John's help, she stood up. They started making their way towards dinning room, while suddenly Mary stopped. John turned around to see her grabbing her stomach, obviously in pain. She groaned and took a hold of John's hand again, squeezing it. Mary looked up at John and whispered:

"The baby." John quickly walked closer to her for support. She groaned in pain again, breathing heavily. Mary was squeezed John's hand, everytime she felt pain.

"It's too early!" John said, a little bit panicking. It was way too early. Mary groaned again and gasped, her waters just broke. John's eyes widened and he looked at Mary scared.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock sat in his chair, staring into nothing and thinking about everything. He knew nothing about what Moriarty wanted to do. He couldn't find out anything. This angered him the most.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft was here too. Mycroft visited Sherlock more often now. He was scared for his little brother, so he always checked on him. It seemed that he didn't got any better. Not getting worse, but not getting better either. Always staring into  space and half of the time never really here. Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock." Mycroft waited for Sherlock, while he finally looked up.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Sherlock's eyes quickly shot to the phone. He was debating if he should take it not. Finally, he slowly reached for it. Sherlock looked at caller's ID and his heart started beating faster. Mycroft saw change in his little brother's face and he already knew who was calling. Sherlock slowly answered:

"John." he stated simply. He could hear heavy breathing on the other side. Sherlock quickly stood up and turned away from his brother. "John?" he waited for John to start talking.

"Sherlock... Please, I need your help." John's voice was shaking, as if he was crying. Sherlock slowly breathed in and turned to Mycroft.

"I can't right now..." Sherlock didn't sound so sure for John, as if he was searching for a reason to not talk.

"Please..." Sherlock looked at Mycroft. His brother slowly shook his head. Sherlock turned from him again and wanted to speak, but John interrupted him:

"Sherlock, it's Mary." Sherlock suddenly turned to Mycroft. He sat down in his chair and asked:

"Mary?" Sherlock took a little glance to Mycroft to know if he heard and understood.

"Yes, but please, Sherlock... Come to the hospital." John's voice sounded so vulnerable, in the end it broke. Sherlock knew he had to go.

"I'll be there." he answered and hung up. Then the detective jumped to go change into other clothes, but Mycroft grabbed his hand.

"You can't go." Sherlock yanked his hand away from Mycroft and looked coldly at him.

"I need to." Sherlock said calmly, even if he was boiling inside. John needed him. John needed Sherlock. And he is going to be there. He is going to ignore his feeling and be there for his best friend. Mycroft didn't seem pleased nor convinced. Sherlock sighed. "It's Mary. Something happened and she is in hospital. I need to go." he looked at Mycroft pleading. "Mycroft, I can't do this to him!" Sherlock was losing his patience. "I can't leave him alone.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock finally found the right floor. He saw John and his pace slowed down. He couldn't help but admire the doctor, even if he looked like a mess and pacing around. When John finally saw Sherlock, his shoulders lowered and he just felt more calm than seconds before. His whole appearance calmed John.

When Sherlock saw John's face, his heart broke. His hair were a big mess, cheeks stained with tears, eyes red from crying. His eyes told so much more. They were full of worry and fear. 

"Is Mary o-" Sherlock was cut when John hugged him. Sherlock wasn't used to it, but neither was John so it was new to both of them. Sherlock slowly hugged John back, while the doctor silently cried. They didn't need words. All they needed now was each other.

John needed Sherlock more than ever. He was his best friend, the man who saved him, even if Sherlock didn't realize that. But John needed Sherlock in this moment, to be with him, to hold him.

Sherlock was happy he was holding John in his arms, but sad that under these circumanstanses. He hated himself for enjoying his hug, but the detective couldn't help himself. Sherlock loved John and holding him was the only thing he could do. Sherlock admired how John cared for Mary even if she lied to him multiple times. He was just like that. He was good.

"John, tell me what happened." Sherlock stayed calm for John's sake. The doctor slowly took a step back, breaking from Sherlock's embrace. John was still shaking and crying, so Sherlock held his hand on John's to keep him calm.

"Mary... The baby..." The doctor was bawling stuff, not making sense to Sherlock, but the detective slowly figured out what was happening.

"John, look at me." John shook his head and looked down. It was hard for Sherlock to not try and take John's hand, but he resisted it. "Look. At. Me." John finally raised his eyes to look at Sherlock. Because of that, both of their hearts started beating faster. John's breathing suddenly hitched. "Listen to me. Now breath in and out. Slowly." John did as Sherlock said. Sherlock did it with him together and after some time John finally calmed down. Of course, John was still scared and worried, but much calmer. "There." Sherlock whispered. He didn't bother saying 'It's going to be ok', because it can be really bad. He finally let John go. Then they both walked to the chairs and sat down.

John was getting anxious and Sherlock was drifting into his mind palace again. He couldn't believe John called him, saying that John needs him. Maybe he said this because of what was happening. He found so many excuses as to why John called. Thought he didn't knew the real reason.

John didn't knew why he called Sherlock. He remembers taking his phone and then suddenly, he is calling Sherlock. Probably John himself didn't realize that, but his body knew. He needed Sherlock as the only thing to keep him right in this though moment.

Suddenly, a doctor walked out and John quickly stood up, but Sherlock didn't. He instead looked at the doctor's face and knew. He knew what he was going to say. So Sherlock stood up and gave John a hesitant pat.

"I'm sorry to say this, but the baby didn't survive." John breathed out, his heart dropping. He didn't realize he was holding his breath. John closed his eyes and lowered his eyes. Sherlock saw that John won't answer, so he answered the doctor himself.

"Thank you." the doctor nodded and walked away. John slowly sat down. Sherlock just looked back at John. It was hard for Sherlock to see John so hurt, so vulnerable. John had his face in his hands and was breathing heavily. "John, you should go and see Mary." Sherlock slowly said. John slowly nodded and stood up.

"Yeah, you're right. I should." John looked at Sherlock, secretly admiring the detective and then slowly walked the way the doctor came. Sherlock was left alone. He awkwardly stood in the hallway, until he slowly turned around and walked away.

 

* * *

 

John walked to his wife. She was lying on the bed, her face all sweaty and she looked exhausted. John slowly approached her bed. Mary was looking out the window, but when she heard John walk in, she turned to look at him. Small smile crept into her face, but when she saw John's expression, her own face fell.

"What is it, John?" She was waiting for the doctors to tell her what happened, but instead, John showed up. "Please, tell me if the baby is ok." She silently pleaded him. His face was sad and Mary knew what he will say.

"I'm sorry, Mary." he whispered. The words finally sank and Mary covered her lips with her hand, while John took her other hand in his. Tears started to roll down her face. She was actually looking forward for this baby, they both were. John slowly reached for Mary and hugged her. That was the moment when it all started. It's going to get hard for both of them from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY IF JOHN DOESN'T SOUND LIKE JOHN. I TRY, OK.


	3. Goners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes to live in 221B Baker st. again. One night he finds a message directed to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA  
> ANGST

Sherlock was pacing in his flat. It was his flat now, he wasn't sharing the flat with John anymore, since John was living with Mary. 

Things for Mary and John didn't go well. After the loss of the baby, they both became distant. John didn't talk to Sherlock too, even if the detective texted him. Sherlock thought it was all for better, to keep avoiding John, to focus on Moriarty, but there was nothing to focus on!

Sherlock paced around his flat, waiting for any news from Mycroft, but he got nothing. It's like Moriarty is waiting. Waiting for their guard to be down, then he will attack. But the wait was driving Sherlock crazy. Maybe that was Moriarty's point? Sherlock sat down. He wasn't calm, far from that. He didn't take any cases now, he couldn't distract himself with them. But slowly, the detective drifted into his mind palace again. He tended to do that a lot right now. Thinking about everything he could, everything he cared, everything that was happening at the moment.

Only the bell shook Sherlock out of his thoughts. Someone was at the door and it was obviously not Mycroft, he never rings a bell. Could be John, but it's just a little possibility, what would he need here? Maybe Graham... Greg was at the door. Sherlock slowly walked downstairs and opened the door to be met with... John. His face fell a little, when he saw how the doctor looked. Haven't eaten properly in days, no calm night sleep, nightmares, lost weight, problems with Mary, little signs of depression, anxiety... He could go on and on, but Sherlock was interrupted by John:

"Can I come in?" Sherlock slowly nodded and let him in. He couldn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. They both walked up and John sat in his chair. The doctor let out a heavy sigh, while Sherlock was waiting for John to speak, even if he already knew why John was here. "It's Mary and I... We had an argument." John looked up at the detective and Sherlock's heart started to beat faster, when their eyes met. "Can I stay for a while? At least until we figure this out."

"Of course." Sherlock said and looked away. And since that day, they both are living in the flat again. Sherlock seemed to notice how John became more happy being here, but his emotions always changed when he talked about Mary or thought about her. 

Few weeks passed and there was still no sign of Moriarty. Sherlock was getting frustrated, he couldn't sleep anymore, he became less approachable, everything irritated him. Everybody walking in made him think it was Moriarty. The only person that could take him in this situation was John. Sherlock always insulted everybody, except John. 

One time, Mycroft came to check on Sherlock, as he always did and found out that John was living with him too. Mycroft didn't like the idea, he started disliking John either. The doctor, on the other hand, didn't know why Mycroft was so cold towards him. Poor John was clueless.

"Are you insane?" Mycroft asked Sherlock, when John finally left them two to have a private conversation. Sherlock just scoffed in response and went to sit to his chair. Sherlock knew it was bad for him, but he just couldn't close the door right in John's face and leave him with nowhere to go.

"It's just for some time. He will be gone soon." Sherlock answered not looking at Mycroft. He started to irritate the detective. "If this flat was the only place he could stay, so be it." He stood up and walked pretty close to Mycroft and pretty pissed. "I'm not going to take it away from him." Sherlock walked back into his room, leaving Mycroft.

"I just don't want you getting hurt again." Mycroft silently whispered to the empty room. After Mycroft found out and saw how heartbroken his little brother was, he didn't want Sherlock to be so much hurt again. He was trying to keep Sherlock safe, but it seemed that he didn't want his help. Mycroft slowly turned and left.

 

* * *

 

One rather peaceful evening, John decided to have a little walk. He just needed some time outside. Not to be away from Sherlock, he didn't want that. He just wanted to think, he wanted fresh air. He needed some time for himself, to sort everything out. Even if he sat in his room, he could hear Sherlock, he could feel his presence and it made John frustrated. 

John found a little bench and decided to relax for a bit. He sat down and a lot of thoughts started to pour. He noticed change in Sherlock. He acted differently, his behaviour around John was more careful. Did John hurt him? If he did, what did he say? What happened?

John suddenly remembered times before the fall. He remembered how he started looking differently at Sherlock. How he saw real Sherlock behind that mask. Maybe he was even falling in love. He didn't know that. It was too long ago. But he remembers the fall really clearly. He remembers what Sherlock said to him, how he jumped. The thing that John couldn't stop thinking about, before he met Mary, was when he searched for pulse, he saw colors. Bright colors. But there was no pulse. That was the clue for John, that Sherlock was in fact alive. He was just blind to see.

But colors. Colors? When he touched Sherlock? John knows all those stories about soulmates. Maybe when he was little, he believed in them. But when he grew? Of course not, because it were just child stories. But now? He doesn't know what to think. He saw them. He saw blood clearly, it stood out with it's vivid color. He saw Sherlock's coat in color, everything had color, even if it was just for a little glimpse. He really did saw them when he touched Sherlock. Does that mean?.. That would be funny, because he is not Sherlock's soulmate. But why Sherlock took his hand that day? Why he looked around so mesmerized? Why he asked John if he saw it too? Yes, John did saw colors when their hands collided, but he didn't knew what he was supposed to see.

Suddenly John sat up. His heart dropped. What if Sherlock saw colors, so bright, just like he did when he took Sherlock's pulse? And by asking what he was supposed to see, he gave the impression of not seeing them. What if this why Sherlock is distant and careful with him. 

"Oh god." he whispered, but his thoughts were cut when he got a phone call. He quickly fished his phone out of his pocket and answered without looking at the caller's ID. "Hello?"

"John, come back to the flat. Something happened."

 

* * *

 

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, waiting for John to come back. He was getting impatient and he felt lonely. Living with John again was a great feeling. He could talk to John when he woke up, he could drink tea with John, he could make him laugh. And now he was feeling alone.

The bell rang. Sherlock's head shoot up. It wasn't John nor Mycroft, they both would walk in. It couldn't be Gra-Greg either, he told him to not bring any new cases long time ago. Sherlock slowly walked downstairs, carefully. The bell rang again. The person who was standing outside was getting impatient. Sherlock smirked and opened the door to see Mary. Even if Sherlock was left speechless, he won't show this to her. 

"I need your help." she said and looked up the flat. "Is John here?" she asked and looked behind her as if someone was watching her. Sherlock looked coldly at her, because he saw her act pretty clearly.

"No." he simply said and let her in. Mary rushed in, while Sherlock slowly closed the door. They both walked upstairs and she sat in John's chair. Sherlock didn't like anybody sitting in John's chair, but Mary sitting made the detective sick. "So what do you need?" Mary sighed and put her hand back down.

"Me and John, we had some complications..."

"That's not why you're here." Sherlock harshly interrupted.

"You're not over that time."

"Do you expect me to be?"

"Of course not."

"So what do you need here, Mary?" She sighed. Sherlock slowly leaned in to have a better look of her face. It was full of lies.

"I want you to talk with John."

"About?" 

"Me and him." Sherlock laughed.

"Why would I do that?"

Mary didn't answer. Instead, she smirked. She looked frightening, Sherlock could see the assassin now.

"Why wouldn't you?" She suddenly asked. Sherlock was caught off guard and this time, she smirked. "Don't you want John to be happy?" Sherlock thought back to all those weeks spent with John. How he finally looked happy, how his mood changed whenever Mary was mentioned. Sherlock knew very well that John wasn't happy before he came to live in 221B again. 

"Why would I want for him to be unhappy?" Sherlock challenged Mary.

"He's happy?" she asked in disbelief. "With you? Here?" Sherlock could see this whole act and it was making him despise her more. "Do you really think he could be happy with  _you_?" Mary mocked Sherlock and suddenly her face changed as if she realized something. "Oh god." she suddenly whispered. The detective read in her face what she understood and his heart dropped. "You love him." Sherlock didn't answer. "You love him and you believe he could be happy with you." Sherlock felt lost. He felt vulnerable. 

"Don't say a word." He said silently, his voice barely audible. Mary smirked, because she knew she was right.

"Too bad." she said. "He chose me and you are forced to watch us-"

"Shut. Up." he said more loudly and stood up, Mary following his move.

"Oh Sherlock, and what did your brother said? Not get involved?"

"Leave." he said louder, his voice stronger. She smirked again.

"I will leave. But you are coming with me." then Mary looked behind Sherlock and he suddenly felt pain in his head and fell unconscious.

 

* * *

 

John rushed into the flat as quickly as possible. He was met by Mycroft, Greg and others walking around the flat. His stomach dropped, he could feel that something bad happened, because Sherlock was not here.

"What happened?" Mycroft waved towards the TV and responded:

"Well why don't you find out?" John looked at the TV and Greg motioned to somebody. 

"Play the tape." Some guy walked to the TV and played what was on it. At first, it was dark but then a face appeared. A very familiar face. 

" _Hello!_  " Moriarty said. John's heart skipped a beat. " _Oh no, don't fear me. I'm not really here. It's just a tape._ " Moriarty mocked them. A crazy smile appeared on his face. " _Too bad for Sherlock, he is with me._ " The imagine changed and they could see bloody Sherlock lying on the ground, his hands sealed with chains and he was unconscious. John's eyes widened and his heart started to beat faster. " _Now, I want to talk to John._ " John had to sit down. " _Johnny boy, I know you are watching this. I want to meet you. But only you. We all should play a game! They all already found out time and place. Meet me there alone._ " Moriarty walked to Sherlock and janked his head by hair. Sherlock groaned in pain. " _I won't be pleased if you bring company. He won't see a daylight if it happens._ " Moriarty motioned towards Sherlock and let his hair go. Sherlock's head fell down and John winced. " _Meet. Me. Alone._ " Moriarty smiled his crazy smile and the video ended. 


	4. Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John runs to find Sherlock, while Moriarty and Sherlock have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just a filler and I'm sorry I took so long, it was really hard to write

"You're not seriously going alone there." Greg asked John, as he was sitting in his chair, still shocked after what he just saw. His chest ached while seeing Sherlock in this condition. Even if he couldn't see colors, he already knew what that dark thing all over Sherlock's face and clothes could be.

"John, I know he told you to come alone, but we need a plan. We can't let you go there alone and risk your life, Sherlock would..." Mycroft stopped and didn't finish his sentence.

John knew he couldn't risk his own life nor Sherlock's by bringing police together. He had to go alone or he feared that Moriarty will do something. But no matter if John came alone or with police, knowing Moriarty, he will do something to both of them.

John suddenly stood up and went to search for his gun. Mycroft instantly knew what John had decided. As much as he despised the doctor, he knew himself it was the only chance in saving Sherlock, but he _couldn't_  let the doctor go alone. If something happened to John, Sherlock would never forgive Mycroft. 

"Where does he want to meet me?" John asked and turned to Mycroft. Mycroft could read every emotion in John's face and doctor's expression was scaring him. John was angry, but he had a little smile on his lips. He was pissed and his eyes were burning with hatred towards Moriarty. John couldn't forget Sherlock and how damaged he looked in that video. The whole atmosphere was burning and it was as if you could feel the anger from John. He didn't want for John to go alone. "Where are they?" John said it so calmly, that Mycroft got a little shiver, almost unnoticeable. Mycroft sighed and looked at Greg, slowly nodding. Greg slowly walked to John and gave him a little piece of paper which had the address. John took the gun and ran out of the flat, nodding at Greg a little.

"Are you really letting him go alone?" Greg asked, standing next to Mycroft. Mycroft turned to Greg a little, sly smile playing on his lips. 

"Of course not. Take your best men and follow him. Don't interrupt unless necessary. Nobody needs to know you are there." Greg nodded and and they all left the flat, leaving Mycroft standing alone in the middle of the room.

 

* * *

 

Moriarty paced in the room, waiting for Dr. Watson to finally arrive. His eyes slowly finding it's way to look at Sherlock and every time he felt himself smile a little. He stopped walking to take a better look at Sherlock. The detective was lying on the ground, his hands chained behind his back. Moriarty perfectly knew it was blood all over his face even if the face was dark with it. Sherlock's eyes were closed, but he was conscious, his heavy breathing gave it away. The detective's chest was burning, he needed more air but with all the pain, it was harder to breath. He was hit too many times. Moriarty couldn't help but admire the view. He just loved seeing Sherlock in pain, if not in physical, then in mental. And now Moriarty will see both of them together. Moriarty slowly moved closer to Sherlock and broke the silence:

"I know you are awake." Sherlock slowly opened his eyes to look at Moriarty. His eyes were cloudy and Sherlock could barely see, his vision blurring at times. It was hard to do anything for the detective. Every breath, every move caused pain. Moriarty had a little smirk on his lips. He just stood up and started slowly walking around Sherlock. "I can't wait for your little friend to finally come and play." Moriarty added. 

 _No._ "And what are you going to do with us?" Sherlock slowly asked, his voice was hoarse and breaking in the end. He couldn't show his weakness, but it feels that Moriarty already knew it. That's why Sherlock is here beaten up. That's why Moriarty asked John to come. Sherlock is bait, for John. And both of them are going to get hurt. 

"I'm pretty sure you already figured this out." Moriarty answered him. Yes, Sherlock already knew. He sighed silently and let out an unexpected groan out of pain. Moriarty just laughed. "I love this sound you make when you are in pain." Sherlock was taking deeps breaths, trying to stop the pain in his body, but body was betraying him. Moriarty suddenly crouched next to Sherlock again and janked his hair so Sherlock's face was in Moriarty's level, which made Sherlock let out a cry, his hands trying to break free, causing more pain in his whole body. "I'm sure you and I will have lots of fun. Isn't that right?" Moriarty asked, but got no response. He chuckled and released Sherlock's hair. The detective's head fell down on the hard ground. Moriarty walked away from Sherlock and spoke again: "Secretive. Clever." He walked away into the darkest corner the of room, leaving Sherlock alone on the ground, with few tears in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

It felt like forever. 

The never fading darkness, the unbreakable silence. 

Everything was driving insane. And the wait. 

Why was he waiting? 

What was he waiting for? 

Who? 

His end? 

Maybe. 

Maybe everything will finally be over. Maybe his life will finally be over. Maybe he won't have to let everybody around him down. Maybe his heart won't burn with the pain anymore.

He just needs to let go. 

To close his eyes.

To just wait for the end to come.

To finally accept it.

That this is it. 

This is where it all ends. 

 

* * *

 

Survive. Escape.

For John.

 

Sherlock opened his eyes. The words just didn't stop ringing in his head. His head shot up. He could sense that somebody was here. He moved a little but the pain stopped him. The detective slowly laid his head, controlling his breathing. He could hear steps, like someone was running around and searching for something. Sherlock's mind worked too quickly and his head shoot up to see the only person that could be standing in the doorway.

_John._


	5. Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds Sherlock with Moriarty waiting for him to finally end this once and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you will enjoy this chapter. Trying to make angst as much as possible xD

John's heart skipped a beat. There was Sherlock, lying on the ground, his hands tied with chains, his head was tilted and the detective was looking at the doctor. Sherlock's eyes were filled with horror but also relief. He didn't think that John will come looking after him. He was happy that it was John that came here, but also scared. He can't save him. Not this time. Maybe never. 

 

John slowly walked to Sherlock and crouched down. The detective slowly put his head on the ground and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. John's heart was racing, it felt like his heart wanted to leave his body and John felt adrenaline all over himself. Seeing Sherlock all bloody and hurt was so... _wrong_. John's heart was filling up with hatred, but also love and hurt. He was hurting himself by just looking at Sherlock. 

 

The doctor's instinct was screaming to touch Sherlock, to look where it hurts for him, to see if anything is broken or not. But he was scared. For the first time in his whole life, John was scared to touch a damaged body. His hands lingered over Sherlock and he wasn't sure what to do. 

 

"Sherlock..." he whispered. John might be losing him, but he didn't want to think like that. He can't and he won't. Not again. Sherlock opened his eyes to look at John. His chest clenched with pain seeing John like that. He slowly stretched his hand up to John's face and wiped away that one tear. John didn't even realize he was crying. 

 

"Well hello there, doctor Watson." Moriarty walked out of shadows. John quickly took his gun out to point at Moriarty, who only smiled at his movement. All of this reminded of the first time they all met, just some things had changed. 

 

"What, no snipers?" John asked sarcastically. Moriarty grinned even more. Sherlock was silently deducing Moriarty. He knew that something was up. Something was not right. Moriarty was up to something. He didn't have any snipers, as if he was sure John won't shoot him. But was he really? 

 

"Oh, I'm in no need of them." Moriarty answered. He was so sure, it was confusing Sherlock. John's hand tightened on his gun.

 

"What if I shoot you now? Nobody would stop me." Moriarty giggled in answer. John's words reminded him of Sherlock, just before he walked out of the pool. And it sounded amusing! John and Sherlock were so in sync and they both didn't even realize that. Moriarty said nothing after all, but all of them knew that John won't shoot Moriarty. Not now anyways. 

 

"Oh, this will be fun." Moriarty said as John slowly stood up. Sherlock turned his head to look at the ceiling, then slowly closed his eyes. He wished this never happened. He wished he never had met Moriarty. Sherlock wouldn't have to need to fake his suicide. John wouldn't have found a wife. Maybe everything would have ended differently. Maybe Sherlock would have John as his and only his. 

 

"What are you going to do with us?" John asked. Moriarty looked up at John, looking straight into his eyes. John could see the chaotic persona in those cold eyes and it scared the doctor a bit. Moriarty was unpredictable. 

 

"I will let you deduce, doctor." Moriarty responded mockingly. John made a quick look around and he swore he saw something in the dark corner on his left of this room. His eyes went back to Moriarty.

 

"You will kill us." John slowly walked around Sherlock to be in front of him.

 

"Good! Very good!" Moriarty said and looked at Sherlock. "He learned this from you, I can tell. What a great student and his teacher!" He grinned. His smile grew bigger when he said these words: "Are there other things you learned too?" Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. He knew what Moriarty was talking about and his heart suddenly started to race. Even if he wanted John to know, he wouldn't have told him while it was life and death's question. Not now. 

 

"What things?" John asked, his voice full of confusion. Sherlock wanted to see John's face so bad, but John was in front of him and the detective saw only his back. Moriarty laughed and turned a bit to look at the darkness as if he turned to laugh with a friend. But he quickly turned back. 

 

"So he didn't tell you?" He laughed more and then looked at Sherlock again. This time, Sherlock was looking back at Moriarty. "What a shame, you will both die without saying things you always wanted to say." John's face dropped. He looked down, his hand lowering just a little. Sherlock closed his eyes and took slow breaths. The pain had eased, just a little and he could finally move more. Just a bit more. "You both amaze me. Even after all this time?!" Moriarty smirked. "Oh right, our beloved doctor got married. That got into the way." He said as if apologising.

 

"How are you going to do it?" Sherlock spoke for this first time since John came here. His voice was breaking, it was more like a hoarse. John flinched a little. It just reminded him how broken Sherlock was at the moment. "How are you going to kill us?" Sherlock asked again as if Moriarty didn't understand the first question. Sherlock got up from the floor a bit and turned to Moriarty, chains ringing in the silence as he balanced himself on his own hands, even if they were burning a bit. 

 

"What would you suggest?" Moriarty asked him. Sherlock looked up to see him smirking. "Last time it didn't work." 

 

"Last time you blew your head." Sherlock said looking down. John flinched at all the memories that were flooding him right now. Of Sherlock's last words, how he jumped, how he ran to him, shouting that it was his friend so people could let him through, how there was no pulse but bright colors, so bright. Colors he saw for just a second, because Sherlock was taken away from his as quickly as possible. How he spent two years thinking Sherlock was dead, but then, on the day he wanted to propose to Mary, he is suddenly alive. 

 

"And here I am!" Moriarty's hands flew up as he smiled. His hands slowly lowered down and he said: "Stayin' Alive." Sherlock looked up at Moriarty again, trying to read him. The last time Sherlock heard those words and that song was when they were on the rooftop. John's hand on the gun tightened. "Wonder how I did it, am I right, Sherlock?" The detective's eyes drifted slightly to left to see something, even if for a split second. 

 

"Well, if I'm about to die, I would like to know anyways." Sherlock answered, looking back at Moriarty. 

 

"I thought you got it all figured out by now." Moriarty laughed. "You are the genius one here, how do you not know how I did it? Or are you really a genius?" John looked at Sherlock for a second to see the detective looking down. John knew Sherlock, he knew that the detective was blaming himself for not seeing what was there to see. "It's never the twins, right?" Sherlock's eyes suddenly widened. Twins. 

 

"Twins?" John asked looking at Sherlock for answer, but he couldn't see his face, since the detective was facing the ground.

 

"Twins indeed!" Moriarty laughed again. "Remember Richard Brook? You thought it was all just an act. Well that's where you're wrong, Sherlock. I had a twin brother. The day you met Richard Brook, it wasn't me. On the rooftop, where Moriarty killed himself, _it wasn't me_ , Sherlock. It was my dear twin brother." Sherlock closed his eyes. There were so many clear signs. And he didn't see it. How could he possibly not see it?!

 

"Maybe you didn't die that day, but I can make sure that you die right now." John said and pointed his gun towards Moriarty. Moriarty smiled with closed mouth as his eyes laughed. Sherlock looking at Moriarty now knew that he was hiding something, he was sure. 

 

"I wouldn't be so sure." Moriarty answered and suddenly a red dot appeared on John's chest. He looked down to see how it travelled to Sherlock's head. John's heart sank. Sherlock took a quick glance at John. From his look Sherlock knew. He remembered the look from when they first met Moriarty. When John told Sherlock to run while he was holding Moriarty himself. He remembered how John's eyes widened when he saw the red dot. And now, Sherlock knew that the red dot was right on his forehead again. 

 

"Your observation skills are really weak, doctor. You both should have worked on that more. See, I did brought a sniper. But only one." Sherlock looked up to see what Moriarty was talking about. John's heart sank more as his chest started to rise faster than before. He tried to say anything, but his words were stuck in his throat. Sherlock spoke instead of John. 

 

"Mary." 

 

John's wife walked out of shadows, the corner John and Sherlock have looked at and saw something. She was holding a gun that was pointed directly at Sherlock, slight grin on her face. John froze, not knowing what to do, his hand started to slightly shake. He knew she was an assassin, but he didn't know that Mary also worked for Moriarty.

 

"Hello sweetie." Mary said smiling at John, that unrealistic smile John saw even from the first day they met. And just now he found out that it wasn't a real smile. It never was. 

 

This broke his heart. John honestly thought he could love her. Even when he forgave her for what she did in the past. He thought they could look past that. Turns out she just worked for Moriarty, which made it all worse. Was everything in their relationship not real?! The only real thing in their relationship was the baby. Or maybe the baby wasn't even his? 

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and looked down again. He was actually relieved that it was Mary. He couldn't believe himself, that he was thinking things like these, but he was. Sherlock, after finding out that she was actually an assassin, knew that she was more than that. He knew that she was hiding something more. Nobody realized that Mary could be hiding something big like this.  

 

"Well, I had lots of fun playing with you, did you?" Moriarty asked and looked at Mary. She didn't tear her gaze from Sherlock, but she gave a little nod. "I think it's time, my dear." Moriarty turned back to look at Sherlock and asked him a question: "Any last words? Something you want to say? This is your last chance." Moriarty turned to Mary and they both laughed. 

 

Sherlock looked up at John, while John slowly looked down to be met with Sherlock's red eyes, as if he was crying. Chains ringed through the whole place again. Sherlock knew that he won't grow old, he understood that with job like this, he will see end really quickly. But he didn't realize that he will fall in love during that time and will have to die together without telling John how much he actually ment. The detective was taking in everything about John since it was the last thing he will ever see. He regretted all those times when he didn't say what he actually felt towards John. He had a chance right now, but he won't do that to John. He just can't. Even if this is the last time. Sherlock knew how broken John was now, but he couldn't break him even more. He's not that kind of person. 

 

"I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered, his voice without any hope. He didn't even know what he was apologising for. Did he apologise for how he couldn't save him? Not today, not two years back? For all those body parts? Calling him idiot? Making John think he was dead? For those two years of pain? For not telling how he felt? For not saying things he always wanted to say? Or maybe because all of this had to end like this? Maybe because Sherlock gave John meaning of life again, but is the one who will also take it away? What was he apologising for? 

 

John lost it. He couldn't believe that it all had to end like this. All he wanted was all those endless cases with Sherlock. The adrenaline. He wanted it. He didn't really want to die because of Sherlock. And he certainly did not want Sherlock to apologise for whatever he was even apologising. But the look on Sherlock's eyes. John knew it was all over. Their stories were over. 

 

There was no escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few chapters left  
> The end is near


	6. Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden twist makes everything worse and John is made to go to hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody really noticed, but I changed the last chapter name's. Now 4th one is 'Turn' and 5th is 'Twist'. I just felt that Survive and Escape fits this one and the next one better :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered, his voice without any hope. He didn't even know what he was apologising for. Did he apologise for how he couldn't save him? Not today, not two years back? For all those body parts? Calling him idiot? Making John think he was dead? For those two years of pain? For not telling how he felt? For not saying things he always wanted to say? Or maybe because all of this had to end like this? Maybe because Sherlock gave John meaning of life again, but is the one who will also take it away? What was he apologising for?

John lost it. He couldn't believe that it all had to end like this. All he wanted was all those endless cases with Sherlock. The adrenaline. He wanted it. He didn't really want to die because of Sherlock. And he certainly did not want Sherlock to apologise for whatever he was even apologising. But the look on Sherlock's eyes... John knew it was all over. Their stories were over.

There was no escape.  

And then suddenly...

"Let's make the game even more interesting!" Moriarty said, clapping his hands together. Both Sherlock and John slowly turned to look at Moriarty while he turned a bit to look at Mary and she suddenly caught what he meant. Sherlock looked up at Mary to see her turning her gun towards John.

"No!" Sherlock suddenly sat up, even if his whole body shook with pain and started burning. Moriarty grinned even more. Of course, this was getting a bit boring and he wanted it all to be finally over. John turned to see Mary looking at him. He swore he saw her apologetic look, but he probably imagined it.

"I did say I will burn the heart out of you, Sherlock." Moriarty turned back to look at Mary again. Sherlock's eyes widened. He suddenly jumped before John the second Mary shot. The bullet went into Sherlock. 

He couldn't feel it. Did it really went into him? Maybe he wasn't fast enough and Mary shot John.

Suddenly, Sherlock's breathing become heavier. Every breath was more painful. The pain went through his body stronger than before. He looked down to see blood pouring out of the wound. Sherlock's knees became weak and he felt darkness surround him. This time Mind Palace couldn't help anymore. Sherlock fell down losing his consciousness the second he reached the floor.

Everything that happened after that was really quick. John used the little opportunity. He didn't hesitate and he shot Moriarty straight into the head, wiping away the grin on his face. Mary was caught off guard, but she quickly turned to shoot John. Mary wasn't fast enough as she was shot too. The bullet reached her hand and her gun fell out of her hands. Another bullet hit her leg and she fell down. John stood there, trying to process what just happened. Mary was now lying on the ground, tears rolling out of her eyes and she was silently crying. John's eyes slowly found Sherlock on the ground. John quickly threw his gun away and reached for Sherlock. He was bleeding badly and was losing blood really quickly. The wound was closer to his heart this time. John tried to stop the blood, but there was more and more every second. He didn't know what to do. His hands now covered in Sherlock's blood made it even more scarier.

"No, Sherlock, don't you dare die." John whispered silently. He was not losing Sherlock. "Not again." John whispered as he closed his eyes. He could feel his wet face and he was obviously shaking which wasn't helping. A lot of people suddenly burst into the room. Some of them ran towards Moriarty's dead body and Mary. Doctors ran towards Sherlock and John. John felt hands that were taking him away from Sherlock, but he was trying to get rid of them. He didn't want to leave Sherlock. "No, no please. Let me go!" he was screaming, but there was no use. The doctors quickly ran out of the room with Sherlock.

"John. Can you hear me? John!" the doctor's eyes slowly travelled to see Greg holding him. It was obvious John was in heavy shock. He was having a breakdown, possibly panic attack.

"I need t-to... I need..." John tried to speak, but Greg interrupted him, not letting him speak. He knew that John wouldn't be able in this condition.

"Yes, I know. Let's go." Greg helped John to stand up and they both slowly walked out of the building towards his car. This was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

Greg drove after the ambulance, John in the back. He was still shaking a bit, looking through the window. His mind was a big blur, but only one thing mattered at the moment.

_Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock_

He couldn't stop his mind. It was racing. Just like his heart out of fear. He tried to keep his mind away from Sherlock, but it was impossible. John slowly remembered that time, when Mary shot Sherlock. The first time. John was pissed. Angry. He couldn't believe that Sherlock came back into his life and now got himself shot. John was angry. On Sherlock, on himself, on the person who shot him. He was full of rage. And that drive to hospital. He was calm. He tried to keep Sherlock conscious.

And now?

Now he is shaking, he is in shock, had a breakdown, possibly a panic attack, cried, his mind is racing just like his heart. Everything opposite calm. But John needs to stay calm. This looked impossible right now.

Finally, after what looked like an eternity, they reached the hospital. John didn't even wait for Greg and jumped out of the car, running into the hospital. He found a nurse behind a desk and quickly walked to her.

"Sherlock Holmes." he said panting. The nurse quickly found the right information. John thanked her and he ran to the right floor, but when up, he was stopped by a few nurses. They told him that Sherlock was in the middle of surgery and John had to wait.

So he waited. John was pacing, waiting, all of the scenarios playing in his head of what doctor could say to him about Sherlock's conditions. Greg sat in the chair, his eyes sometimes following John. He would just sigh helplessly, and lower his head. He was worried for Sherlock too. Greg almost laughed thinking that maybe John will get out of patients and will trash this whole place. Greg looked up at John again, who was still pacing around. His expression was emotionless, but Greg knew that John's had a single thought. It was obvious now. How much he cared. How much Sherlock and John, both cared for each other.

"John." Greg tried again. He didn't remember how many times he said this. He lost count. "Sit down and relax. Your pacing around won't help the doctors." He said and looked up at John who stopped and was now looking at Greg. John finally gave up and sat down, but from just a look at him you could say that he wasn't relaxed at all.

"I just..." John sighed. He didn't know how to say it. He wanted to tell Greg how he felt, but how does he put it all into words? "You should have seen him, Greg. He was bleeding. A lot of blood. I-I couldn't stop it... I couldn't do anything at all!" John's breathing quickened, his heart started to race again. "What if he's dead? What if he won't make it? What if..." John bit his lip, trying to stop all those thoughts. Greg just slowly put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, what if. We don't know anything yet." Greg answered. He had to admit, he was now getting anxious too. Last time, it wasn't that long. How long are they here? 3 hours? 4 hours? "Just take a deep breath. We will wait just a bit longer." John scoffed in answer.

"Waiting." He spat the word as if it was the worst thing in the world. "It's boring." John said and leaned into the wall, his eyes closed. Greg laughed silently, John now reminded him of Sherlock. He carefully looked at John and saw him close his eyes and focus on his breathing to calm down. Greg just by looking at John could see Sherlock. No, they weren't the same, they were so different but that's why they fit so much. They completed each other. Their friendship changed them in so many ways. Greg might have known that they loved each other and he was just waiting for the day when they both will finally realize. He didn't say anything, it wasn't his business, but he saw the longing looks. Greg knew.

After what felt like another eternity, a doctor walked to meet Greg and John. John stood up as quickly as possible. Even without realizing this, John was trying to deduce the doctor, to find out anything. But all he could see was that fake smile every doctor had when they had to deliver bad news. John's eyes widened.

"I have several news." The doctor started and looked both at Greg and John. John was trying to control his breathing. He knew that something was wrong. Something went not as planned. He knew it. He saw it in the doctor and he felt it.

 

_"I'm sorry, but we couldn't do much."_

_"Because of the blood loss, he didn't make it."_

_"I'm sorry, but it was too late."_

 

"Doctor, can you please just tell us how is he?" Greg asked since he knew that John won't do much of talking.

 

_"We did as much as we could but he was too weak."_

_"The wound was too close to his heart. We couldn't do anything."_

_"He is alive right now, but he might not survive._ _He_ _lost too much blood."_

 

"Yes, well. We have both good and bad news." The doctor started. John closed his eyes, his breathing quickening.

 

_"I'm sorry."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"I'm sorry for your loss."_

 

"Just tell us. We've been waiting far too long." Greg said and doctor sighed.

 

_"The bullet reached his heart and we couldn't do anything."_

_"The bullet was too deep and we were afraid to not damage anything else."_

_"The surgery wasn't_ _successful_ _. I'm sorry."_

 

"First, everything went successful. We got rid of the bullet and took care of the wound." John let out a breath. He quickly looked up at the doctor, hope rising. Everything is ok. Sherlock is ok.

"He's going to be ok, right?" Greg asked, relief in his voice. But the smile didn't change on doctor's face. John knew that that wasn't it.

 

_"We have both good and bad news."_

 

"Yes. Sherlock did survive the surgery. But I'm not sure about his further conditions." John took a sharp breath. He could feel himself shaking.

"Why, what do you mean?" Greg asked. Why can't the doctor just tell them? Maybe it was John. He saw how bad John reacted to everything the doctor said. He was being careful. The doctor let out a silent breath and said:

"I'm so sorry, but Sherlock is in coma." John's heart sank. "And he may not make it." Greg's eye widened, while John slowly sat down. He took his head in his hands. Greg turned to the doctor and said a quick thank you. "You will be able to see him very soon." Said the doctor and finally left. Greg looked down at John. The poor doctor was shaking again. Greg just sat down next to John and put a hand over his shoulder, but John didn't feel him. He was lost in his mind.

 

* * *

 

_Not again. God please no. Don't take him away. Not again._

_I beg you. He doesn't deserve this. Let him live._

_I wouldn't_ _take it_ _anymore. God just please._

_Bring him back to me._

_I can't_ _lose him_ _._    _  
_

_Not anymore._  

 _Never._   

_I need him._

_I don't want to lose him._

_I love him._

_I love Sherlock._

Suddenly, John realized. He opened his eyes. He looked at the wall, thinking. Did he just really said that? Admit it to himself?

John loves Sherlock.

John would have laughed if he could. He was in love with the most ridiculous man. And he was happy. But for how long? And he realized just _now?_ Sherlock would think that John is an idiot.

A nurse walked in and told Greg and John to follow her. She brought them to Sherlock. When John opened the door, he stopped dead in his track. Looking at broken body. John couldn't tear his gaze away from him. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, even if just for a second, Sherlock will be gone and he will be dead. But he is not.

John slowly walked to Sherlock, took a chair and sat next to him. He could feel tears rolling down his cheeks. John slowly took Sherlock's hand and closed his. He looked down and whispered:

"I'm sorry."

The only sound John heard was a faint beeping in the background, which only showed that Sherlock was still alive.

_Survive, Sherlock._

_For me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I haven't properly explained Moriarty's move on having only one snipper. We all saw what Mary can do and no matter what happened, John still loved Mary even if not the same way, but he still loved her. BEFORE YOU ATTACK ME, his love for Sherlock won so he would have shot Mary, if others haven't shot Mary first. Hope this clears up things a bit :)
> 
> Only two chapter to go!
> 
> And if somebody needs a reminder, this will end with a happy ending! ;)


	7. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John waits for Sherlock to wake up from a coma while Sherlock is lost in between coma and consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is guys. The very end.
> 
> Well, there is one more chapter left but this is the complete end. I hope you will enjoy this!
> 
> I would also like to thank a very special friend to me, Isi! Without you, these series won't be a thing. Thank you for encouraging me to write this and even make it into a fanfiction! :)

The wait was killing.

Every day, every hour, every minute John was expecting for something to happen. He was expecting for Sherlock to wake up. Holding Sherlock's hand, sitting next to him and waiting.

Waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and hoping for a miracle to happen.

But nothing was happening.

The heart monitor showed that Sherlock was alive, but that's all John knew.

Mrs. Hudson came to visit Sherlock. She didn't say anything, she just stood next to John, gripping his shoulder tightly. After 10 minutes or so, she quietly walked away, silently crying. John hasn't seen her since. She came back after a month, but it was even harder for her to stay calm so John had to lead her back to Baker Street.

Greg also came to visit. He tried making small talk with John, but it was as if talking to a wall. John reminded him of Sherlock again. Greg stopped trying. It was hurting him too. After all, Sherlock was his friend and right now he was in a coma that could end no matter when. And John's resemblance to Sherlock was like a reminder that the one Greg was reminded of was actually in coma.

Mycroft was here too. He came to visit at least once a week, sometimes visiting two days in a row. The image of Sherlock all beaten up and in coma was unbearable. One time, Mycroft walked out to sit in the waiting room. Sentiments never got better  him, but this time knowing that his little brother might never wake up... Well, it broke him into pieces. He kept cool and collected, but he was breaking apart, even if nobody saw it. But Sherlock would have been able to see it.

After some time, John finally left Sherlock's side to go and talk to Mycroft. He knew that Mycroft wasn't here just to see his brother. But John was wrong, Mycroft actually came here to see his brother, also having some news, but his intentions were to visit Sherlock. He didn't come here to tell him all of that, but since John thought so, he told what he knew.

"Moriarty is dead." he started. Mycroft swore he saw a little hint of smile on John's face but it was gone really quickly. "We found his twin brother's body too. They won't be a headache anymore. Unless somebody takes their place which I don't believe will happen." John nodded and sat down next to Mycroft.

"What about Mary?" John asked. During this time, in hospital, John lost respect for her. He didn't care about her anymore. She was nothing.

"She was shot. Didn't lose that much blood, but was still taken to hospital. She is never left alone, there is at least one officer with her. After Mary recovers, we will take her to prison. I made sure she never leaves." John let out little a breath. He started hating her. If it wasn't for her, Sherlock wouldn't be in coma right now.

"Do your parents know?" John asked, his voice barely audible, almost like a whisper, but enough for Mycroft to hear. Mycroft didn't look at him, but John knew that they didn't. John only nodded and stood up to walk back to Sherlock.

"If he wakes up..." John stopped and looked at Mycroft and saw him looking at him. _I hope you will be there._   "...give me a call." John only gave a small nod and went back to Sherlock.

 

* * *

 

There he was. Lying on the bed and not moving. The only thing ensuring that Sherlock was alive was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

John slowly walked back to his seat. He sat on the chair that was on Sherlock's left. John looked at the detective and felt as if he was in his mind palace, not moving and thinking. John could almost imagine that, but the oxygen mask was the only thing proving that the imagine was not real and this is in fact the reality. Sherlock's not in his mind palace. He is in coma. Maybe a never ending one.

It's a been already a month. One month without Sherlock. It felt like ten years. By that time, John had realized a lot of things. Things he was scared of. Maybe that would scare others too. He wasn't sure. He didn't know what to do. John was lost.

John just took Sherlock's hand again, slowly tracing circles with his thumb. He sighed and looked at the detective. A few curls were falling on Sherlock's face and John softly, but hesitantly, brushed them on the left side. John could feel cold skin under his fingertips and a shiver went down his spine.

John let go of Sherlock's hand and just sat there, looking at the detective. Everything around him was silent, the only sound was the heart monitor. John slowly looked up the heart monitor and saw no change in it. The same pulse, rhythmic heart beat. Nothing new. And like this for a whole month.

There was door opening behind John. Somebody entered the room but the doctor didn't care that much to turn around and see who came.

"John, you should rest." said a solid voice behind him. John closed his eyes and looked down. He didn't want to leave. Not now. "I promise to keep an eye on him. He won't go anywhere when you come back. You need to rest." Mycroft added. John gave him a small nod and stood up. He lingered for a bit, just looking at Sherlock. Finally, John turned around, took his coat and walked out.

It was hard to leave him, but Mycroft was right. John needed a little bit of rest. Since that night, John always slept in hospital, besides Sherlock. He woke up for any movement, expecting it to be Sherlock but to only find out it was a nurse. John did leave hospital to go and change clothes, take a bath, sometimes eat, but he never spent over five hours out of hospital.

This time, he will only come back in the morning. John has nothing to worry about. Mycroft is there, Sherlock is safe. It's his brother after all.

John finally arrived at 221b. After Mary and everything, he didn't come back to his house, instead always ending up in Baker Street. As if John knew that something will happen, he had his clothes and other stuff packed. He was ready to leave Mary. He was ready for her to slip. And after all she did.

The doctor took a long shower, made himself dinner. Visited Mrs. Hudson, had tea with her and a little chat, although it was hard to talk with her, since half of the time she was worrying about Sherlock and crying. It wasn't helping John either.

When the clock passed ten p.m., John finally decided to sleep. Without even noticing, he already stood in Sherlock's bedroom. He couldn't help himself, but John slowly lay down. He felt as if Sherlock was sleeping next to him. The whole bed, the whole room was filled with him. John closed his eyes, with peace in his chest and had a peaceful sleep without any nightmares. It was only a little bit more than four hours, but at least John felt rested.

 

* * *

 

Two month, two weeks and one day.

That's how many days Sherlock was in coma. And with every day the number grew. That was the part John hated. The growing number.

John walked back into the hospital, the view he already got used to. He slowly made his way to the right room where Sherlock was. Quietly opening the door, John found Mycroft sitting next to his brother, holding his hand. It was as if Mycroft was talking to his baby brother. And he was. John slowly closed the door and walked back to sit next to the door, giving Mycroft some personal space.

After some time, Mycroft walked out and looked at John. He gave him a small nod and left. John walked back to Sherlock, taking his usual place.

It was too silent. Too silent for such a long time. He hated this room, he hated the silence and the only sound in the room. He hated it all.

John's eyes found Sherlock. He didn't have an oxygen mask right now, so John could see his full face. Sherlock looked so peaceful and beautiful, even in this state. But John knew better. Just by thinking how much pain he went through. Getting shot two times, the pain is unbearable. John himself was shot only one time. Sherlock didn't deserve to be shot any times at all, but it was all Mary. John could feel tears in his eyes. Slowly, he took Sherlock's hand in his own. Inhaling deeply, John decided to speak. He was overflown with everything and it was getting too much. He had to speak, he had to say at least _something_ _,_ even if Sherlock won't hear him. But does he want Sherlock hear what he has to say? John wasn't sure.

"Sherlock-" The doctor was loss for words. He had a lot to say, but couldn't find the right words to express what he actually felt. "I'm sorry." was what he first said, or rather whispered, after some time of silence. "I'm sorry, that we had to end up here. I just wish... Right now, I just wish to go back. I-I want to have never met Mary. Maybe if I didn't met her, you wouldn't be here, lying unconscious." John's voice was getting weak. "I just wish to change some things. I still don't understand why you didn't tell me. I-I lost you, Sherlock. For two whole years. I thought you were actually dead." his voice broke in the end a bit. "I'm sorry I was angry at you. I regret that." The doctor looked away.

There was no response, but it was not like John was expecting one. So he continued.

"When Mary shot you... W-When I thought I will lose you, again. Sherlock-" John turned back to look at the detective, his eyes full of tears and he was shaking just a little bit. "Sherlock, I heard your heart stop. I saw when it happened. I thought that this time, this time I will actually lose you." John took a sharp breath.

No answer. No change. Nothing.

"I can't lose you again. I can't. Not anymore. I need _you_. I-I always did. It never changed. I wish you could know how much you changed my life. I felt as if seeing colours." He let out a small laugh. "That time when I checked your pulse after you jumped... I saw colours. I did. Even if just for a second, but I did. Now I know." John smiled and looked back at Sherlock. "They were so bright. But now I know. I know for sure." John closed his eyes and looked down.

"I can't lose you. Sherlock, do you hear me? Don't leave me. Don't you dare. Not anymore. I-I need you." He let out a shaky breath. "Come back to me. P-Please. Don't leave me alone. Just come back." John kept his eyes closed, his head down. He was holding onto Sherlock's hand as if it was his life. Then John inhaled deeply. "I-I love you, Sherlock." John managed to say in whisper.

And there was a response.

 

* * *

 

He heard it. Heard it all. Voices. They were all around him. Talking and saying things. He couldn't make out anything, but he knew that he wasn't alone.

And he always felt something warm. On his hand. It was always there. Sometimes it would disappeared and it would be cold all over again. He could feel himself slipping away. But then the warmth always came back, and he was holding on it.

And so it went like that.

He was somewhere in between. Never getting tired. Oh, he would give so much away to at least open his eyes or move. Not moving was boring. Dull.

He tried. Hard. To move his hand, head, feet, anything. He wanted to scream: "I'm here!". But it was as if his body was refusing to do anything. And so he had to fight.

That one night he felt strong enough to finally do something. He tried and tried and tried, but nothing happened. He wanted to give up, but he never gave up. So he tried again, but no use. He was stuck with no way out.

Then he heard it.

The soft voice.

Like a lullaby.

It was here. So close. He could try and reach it. And he did try.

He heard the voice louder. Now he knew it was working. So he tried again.

And suddenly, something flashed before him. A name.

_John._

He now knew. He needs to fight for John.

He heard the voice even louder, but still couldn't figure out what John was saying. But that didn't stop him from trying. He decided to focus on something simple, like moving a finger. 

Everything was so clear now. He also heard beeping. It was rhythmic.

He was keeping a hold of that. He won't lose it this time. But the darkness around him started to consume again, trying to silence the voice, John's voice.

_No!_

He could breath in. He felt everything. He was back. Everything was back. He could feel the pain but it didn't matter.

"I-I love you, Sherlock." He heard a whisper and slowly opened his eyes. He was blinded a bit, but he saw something he didn't expect to see anymore. _Colours._

He saw colours. The flowers, they were different from each other. Sherlock blinked few times. He tried to move his hand and felt something warm on his left. He looked down to see John, with his eyes closed and head down, holding his hand, shaking slightly.

"John." a slow whisper escaped his lips. His voice was breaking. John stilled. Sherlock waited. He was looking at John curiously, waiting for his response, for any reaction. Then the doctor slowly raised his head and was met with beautiful eyes. Colours were mixing together and you couldn't make out what true colour it was. Sherlock was looking into bright coloured eyes. They were beautiful, full of light, just like John himself. Sherlock slowly looked down to see his hand intertwined with John's. He could feel himself smile a bit. He was seeing colours and he was holding John's hand.

"Colours." John whispered. That was when Sherlock became lost. He looked up to see John looking around as if seeing the place for the first time. "Colours!" he said louder, sounding like a child who got a present from his parents that he wished for a long time.

"What?" Sherlock let out a small whisper. His voice was still crocky, sometimes cracking and his throat was sore. John turned to look at Sherlock, a big smile on his face.

"Colours, Sherlock. Colours!" he said. His eyes were shining. He was happy. After all this time. Sherlock was still suspicious, scared to hope for too much.

"You see them?" Sherlock slowly asked, his voice sounding careful and vulnerable. John's smile just grew bigger, if that was even physically possible. John gave a small nod. He could see how Sherlock's eyes light up, full of hope. A small smile appeared on his face and he was happy too. It was finally happening. John's chest made a little thing and it was tickling.

"I love you too." Sherlock said, his voice louder than before, stronger. He was sure and wasn't afraid to say those words. The look on John's face made little things to Sherlock's inside. John slowly leaned in and hugged Sherlock, never wanting to let go. They both were captured in the moment, finally happy after such a long time, holding each other, smiling and just being happy that it finally happened. They finally escaped the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I hope you enjoyed this work and will be reading more of my work. Don't forget, there is one chapter to go until finishing and if you stay with me 'till the end, there will be a surprise ;)


	8. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock came back from the hospital, and right now he is just taking his time to recover fully.   
> One particular memory that warms their hearts.  
> One bad morning.  
> Only one bad thing and it will lead to so much more better than John expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long, I actually had this chapter written, just didn't post.   
> Some parts may sound cheesy and I'm sorry.  
> I hope you will enjoy this since this is it, guys! The very last chapter (or is it?)

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, more like trying not to move too much. Even if it's been a bit more than a month since he was finally let out of the hospital, completely healed. Some people were just too worried. But he didn't really mind. At least he was finally happy and back in his flat, the place he called home, back where John was. Sometimes Sherlock remember how it felt before all of this and he could still feel the pain in his heart, but it wasn't as bad as before. Now he could always calm down, because he knew the truth. And he was holding John in his hands. Thinking better about it, the pain, everything they went through - it was all worth it. In the end, John was finally his. Just how he had always imagined.

Sherlock remembers their first kiss very clearly. He keeps it safe and locked, but easy to reach.

 

It all happened slowly. Sherlock had a lot of scenarios in his mind, but he never imagined the one that actually happened. The real one was so much better then all of the others he had imagined, even if it was simple, but it was real.

It was the day Sherlock finally got out of the hospital. They were just slowly making their way up the stairs. Sherlock wasn't fully healed, he could still feel his wound, but at least there was no way of internal bleeding or the wound opening. So Sherlock could go home. And here they were.

John was walking closely to Sherlock, holding his hand in support in case Sherlock stumbled. They made their way up the stairs and Sherlock opened the door. He was welcomed by his usual mess that was actually comforting and just reminding him that he was in fact home. Everything seemed to be in place, the sun shining through the windows and bringing in the warmth. Sherlock smiled a bit and walked in. It has been a long time since he's been here. He slowly made his way towards his chair sat down and winced a bit as he felt slight pain. John looked at him lovingly, his heart filling with love just looking at the man. He was back here, they both were and it was making John happy like never before.

"Tea?" John asked Sherlock casually. The detective sighed and answered:

"Please." The thing was that Sherlock loved the way John made tea. He loved John's tea. It was the tastiest and nobody could make it better, not even Mrs. Hudson. It just happens that the little things our most loved ones make or do are always a masterpiece and always beautiful.

The doctor entered the kitchen, while Sherlock was sitting in his chair and he closed his eyes. It was lovely to finally be back home. And what Sherlock actually needed was something he never expected. Right now, he needed some silence, which wasn't new, but he also needed the calmness, he didn't need any new case, but he did need the warmth of the flat, John.

_John._

Sherlock opened his eyes to see John in the kitchen getting ready to boil the water. A smile appeared on the detective's face. John was here, in the flat. As Sherlock was told by his brother, there was no Mary, no Moriarty. Nothing in the way of them anymore. Sherlock stood up, slowly walking to the kitchen, his eyes never leaving John, who had his back turned to the detective.

John probably heard Sherlock walk in, as it was still a bit hard to do. John turned to look at Sherlock and smiled that one of his bright smiles. Sherlock didn't stop walking until he was hugging John, holding him close. He buried his face in John's neck, closed his eyes and just kept holding him. John hugged Sherlock back, because he finally could do that. He was slowly and soothingly running his hands down Sherlock's back, as if saying _I am here_.

"Don't leave me." Sherlock said his voice muffled. John squeezed Sherlock slightly as to assure, but he also voiced his answer.

"I'm not leaving you. Not anymore." after a little moment, John added. "Never."

This felt new to John. Seeing this new side of Sherlock. He was vulnerable and showed more emotions than ever. Did this mean Sherlock will always be like this – showing more emotions? John just silently sighed.

"Promise me." Sherlock whispered now. He was scared. He thought all of this was not real, maybe it was his mind palace. Maybe he was still in hospital, or maybe even in coma. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe he's still in plane, on his exile and his mind just wandered further than he believed was possible.

"I promise, Sherlock." John slowly let go of Sherlock so he could look at him, still holding him close. Sherlock didn't dare to look at John, his eyes darted to the ground. John slowly took Sherlock face in his hands and made him look up, look at him. The world around them changed and John could see colours dancing in Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock could see John's bright eyes. It was now his favourite colour in the world. They both smiled at each other, knowing that each of them saw colours. "I loved you for so long and now I finally have you. I am never leaving you." Sherlock's heart jumped at the words. Then a lazy smirk appeared on his lips.

"John, you should know that I was the first to fall in love with you." They both silently giggled. John's hands slowly slid down to Sherlock's chest as he put his hand on Sherlock's chest and laughed. Sherlock held John close to him. When laughter slowly died, John could hear heartbeat. It was fast, faster than usual. John's hand slowly made their way to Sherlock's waist, while Sherlock put his head on top of John's and he breathed in to smell John's shampoo, even if it had just a faint smell. Sherlock started to slowly swing to right and left, while holding John close to him.

This was good. It felt peaceful. Everything was ok now. Better than ok. It was never better than this.

Sherlock looked up, then down at John to see him burying his face into Sherlock's chest and listening to Sherlock's heartbeat. Just from this sight, Sherlock's heart leaped and started to beat faster. John smiled at this and looked up at Sherlock. This time, Sherlock took John's face in his hands, while John's hands stayed on Sherlock's waist. He looked lovingly at those bright eyes. Sherlock was happy that he was finally able to hold John in his hands, to have him so close and to know that John felt the same way. Then, Sherlock's eyes slowly travelled down to look at John's lips. They looked so soft, so gentle. It was like an invite. Apart from that, he _could_.

John saw Sherlock's eyes look a bit down. He knew where Sherlock was looking. And he felt a spark in his chest. He could feel his heart beating faster. He didn't rush it, but he couldn't wait anymore. His own eyes lowered down to see Sherlock's lips. They were so close to him, it was incredible. John couldn't think about anything else than wondering how Sherlock's lips would feel against his own.

Sherlock could see everything in John's eyes. He wanted it too. So Sherlock didn't wait. They have waited for far too long.

Sherlock slowly leaned towards John. The doctor saw Sherlock getting closer and he leaned himself until their lips finally met. They both closed their eyes. Sherlock could feel John's soft lips against his and he melted into the kiss. John didn't wait and he answered Sherlock instinctively. John pulled Sherlock closer to him, feeling his body with his own. The kiss was slow and gentle. John tilted his head a bit to the right, giving Sherlock more access.

And then the water started to boil, the kettle whistling. They didn't break their kiss. Oh no, nothing was going to stop this moment. John actually wanted to break the kiss, but Sherlock had a strong hold of him, not even thinking of letting John go now. He just simply lowered his hand to turn the kettle off and then his hand got back into it's previous place or rather getting stuck in John's hair. Sherlock started to slowly walk forwards, while John walked backwards until his back hit a wall. Sherlock's hand travelled into John's hair.

When John's touched the counter, their kiss became more heated. John put as much love towards Sherlock as he could. Sherlock deepened their kiss, settling John on the counter, making John the same height Sherlock was. Slowly, Sherlock's lips travelled to John's neck, leaving little kisses on the way. At first Sherlock found John's sweet spot, sucking the skin, biting it, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Sherlock was exploring the exposed area and leaving John breathless. The doctor could feel soft touches of the detective's fingers, gentle bites of his lips and he could feel his heart racing even more. Sherlock then nibbled on John's collarbone, earning small moans from John, while John himself was breathing heavily. Sherlock's breath on John's neck made shivers run down his spine. All John could hear now was the ticking clock on the wall above his head, Sherlock's heartbeat, his own. And it was magical. John has never felt this way nor have Sherlock.

Slowly, Sherlock leaned back to look up at John. John opened his eyes to see Sherlock like a big mess, breathing heavily, his eyes full of hunger. As quickly as Sherlock pulled back, he attacked John's lips again, with more passion than before, John instantly answering him back with as much passion. Sherlock gently bit John's upper lip, then tongue slowly swept across John's bottom lip and his mouth opened instantly. They both fought for dominance, this time John winning. He started exploring Sherlock's mouth, Sherlock giving John access. Without John expecting, Sherlock attacked John's tongue, eager to get his turn to explore John's mouth. John didn't fought back and he gladly let Sherlock do whatever he wanted. Sherlock's tongue swept over John's teeth and anywhere he could reach.

Suddenly, Sherlock pulled away. Both of them looked into each other's eyes, out of breath and panting. They both were still entwined, but far enough so their lips didn't touch. After John could finally breathe, he broke out into a grin, Sherlock answering him. John put his hand on Sherlock's neck and leaned in so he could touch Sherlock's forehead with his own. John closed his eyes, breathing in, still smelling disinfection of off Sherlock.

"I love you." John heard Sherlock's deep voice and it made his stomach tingle with happiness these three simple words brought.

"I love _you_." John said, a smile playing on his lips. He opened his eyes to see Sherlock's multicoloured eyes and was glad that he was the only one able to see these different colours play in his soulmate's eyes and for the rest of his life.

 

Sherlock smiled at the memory and looked up to see John focused on a book. Of course, the detective was observing even if he didn't want to, but he couldn't help to notice that little wrinkle on John's forehead that appeared whenever the doctor was actually focused on something. A small smile appeared on Sherlock’s face. Slowly, the detective stood up to walk to their room. It was late after all and he was getting a bit tired which was out of character, but he’s been injured and that’s understandable.

“Are you coming?” he asked John, standing between kitchen and sitting room. John looked up, slight surprise visible on his face. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m fine.” Sherlock assured. John has been sleeping with Sherlock just to make sure everything is ok with Sherlock’s wound. Basically sleeping with him as a doctor. This time Sherlock asked him to sleep without doctor assistance. Maybe that’s why John was surprised. A genuine smile appeared on John’s face, as he looked down, focusing on his book again.

“Will be there soon.” Sherlock nodded and walked back to their room. He changed into something more comfortable and waited for John. Shortly, John came in. Neither of them said anything. John quickly changed into other clothes and laid into the bed. His head didn’t even reach the pillow when Sherlock snuggled closer to John, hugging him. John just let out a sigh, his hands quickly getting lost in Sherlock’s hair. The doctor leaned to kiss Sherlock on forehead and whispered silent ‘Goodnight’ then closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep with his soulmate in his hands.

 

 

Next day, John decided to sleep alone. Not because he was growing tired of Sherlock. He thought it will be the best if he let Sherlock sleep alone one night. It was not long ago when he came back from the hospital, he should rest more. So John decided to let him rest.

John woke up to see an empty bed. He heard water running in the bathroom, indicating that Sherlock was there. John slowly sat up and yawned. He stretched a bit and got out of bed, quickly changing from pyjamas into his normal clothes. Today he had a day off and could do anything he wanted, which was a relief.

John made his way to the kitchen and started preparing simple breakfast. He turned the kettle on, getting ready two cups for tea. John quickly makes pancakes and hears shower turn off. John was finished with the breakfast and he prepared the table which was surprisingly clean and empty.

John sat down, facing their bedroom and eating. Few seconds later, Sherlock walked out, a towel wrapped around his torso, his chest bare, the new bullet wound, now scar, was visible. John stopped eating and just stared at the bare chest.

“Morning.” said Sherlock. He saw that John wasn’t focused, as he was looking somewhere and completely not responding. Then he noticed where John was looking. Smug smile appeared on his face, as he turned around and walked to their room to put on some clothes.

John blinked few times, coming back to reality. What he just saw was beautiful and mesmerizing. He couldn’t get the image out of his head. It wasn’t the first time John saw Sherlock’s bare chest. But it was the first time he saw him almost naked after they were together. The image was stuck and he couldn’t eat anymore. John squirmed in his seat and felt something hard against his jeans. Did he just really got hard? Apparently, yes. John tried to calm himself down. It’s nothing, he will ignore it.

Just then, Sherlock walked out of their bedroom. He was wearing his shirt with its sleeves rolled up a bit and simple trousers, barefoot. His hair was still damp after the shower. Sherlock looked more gorgeous than ever. The view made John’s desire grow as he watched Sherlock walk up to the table and take the cup that was ready for him. Few fantasies ran through John’s mind and his arousal just grew bigger. John took a sharp breath as Sherlock was about to walk away from the table.

“Won’t you eat?” John asked him, basically choked out his question. He coughed quickly and continued on eating his breakfast.

“I don’t want to.” answered Sherlock, sipping his tea which was lovely. He noticed how John was acting a little bit weird. His back was tensed and he was holding a straight posture of a soldier.

“Eat.” said John, this time his voice sounding stronger. It was more demanding and Sherlock obeyed without giving a second thought.

Sherlock didn’t want to eat, but he took few bites which were delicious. He was also trying to deduce John. He didn’t see anything just that John’s cheeks were a bit flushed and he was breathing heavier than normal. His deductions were a bit hazier and were slower. That’s why Sherlock hated hospitals – it always made his head hazy with all the medicine they gave him. He didn’t deduce anything else either, since his phone went off. Sherlock quickly got up to answer it. He came back with a phone, giving little responses to whoever he was talking to. The phone call ended really quickly.

“Lestrade?” asked John. He already knew the answer, but asked anyways.

“Asked me to come to talk about the recent case.” Sherlock quickly finished his tea and walked out of the kitchen to get ready. John was finishing his breakfast. Sherlock walked to John, giving him a quick kiss to his forehead and ran down the stairs, out of the flat. John waited to hear the door close and then let out a big sigh. He then left his cold food and rushed up to his room.

John sat down on his bed, unzipping his trousers very quickly and taking his throbbing cock in his hands. He stroked himself few times, letting out groans he tried so desperately to silence. Sherlock’s bare chest appeared right in front of his eyes again. John’s imagination changed the image a bit and here he saw Sherlock standing completely naked. John was stroking himself faster, more fantasies playing in his head. He was already a mess. His breathing was quick, he could feel sweat on his forehead. John moaned, rolling his hips, trying so hard. Oh, the things he could do to Sherlock.

Just few more strokes and John was coming. He rode it out and fell breathless on his bed. Sadly, this all was unsatisfying. It wasn’t as powerful as he imagined, it last only a few seconds, which was less than usual and it all left him frustrated. John just cleaned himself, changing his trousers and walking down the stairs.

He failed today which left him frustrated and full of need. John tried watching telly, clicking through channels, but nothing worked. His leg was moving up and down quickly, what he never did. John was growing impatient for no reason. He also tried writing his blog, but it didn’t work too. John tried to ignore his frustration as much as possible, but he just couldn’t do it. After a failed orgasm, he needed more, wanted more.

 

Sherlock came back after few hours, with take out which he put on the kitchen table. He spent at least three hours with Greg that were really dull. All Sherlock wanted to do was get back to the flat, to John since he had a day off. But here he was, stuck with Greg. What had to be only a half an hour trip, turned to be another case.

Finally arriving back home, he found John sitting in his chair. Sherlock instantly knew that something was going on with John. He was in his chair, but he wasn’t on his laptop. Instead, his gaze was on Sherlock’s chair and out of focus completely. Sherlock slowly walked to John and stroked his hair which made John look up. Sherlock gave him a sweet kiss and then smiled at him.

“I brought take out for us. Are you hungry?” he asked John. With all this frustration, John didn’t even notice he was hungry, so he walked to the kitchen without any answer. Sherlock was already wearing his night gown while they sat and ate in silence.

“Why were you gone so long?” asked John. Sherlock sipped his tea and answered:

“Lestrade turned a simple thing into a case which I had to solve of course.” John smiled and continued eating. For this short amount of time, he forgot about his morning. But his frustration didn’t go unnoticed. Sherlock saw it instantly. He probably figured out why John felt like that. Of course, Sherlock decided to keep a close eye on John for the rest of the day.

After they finished eating, Sherlock went to use his computer. John tried reading his book, but even an idiot could see that it was hard reading for him. Sherlock looked up once in a while, until he decided to just ask him.

“Is something wrong?” John didn’t look up.

“No.” He simply answered, his voice not sounding sure.

“Are you sure?” Sherlock wasn’t buying it.

“I’m fine.” John’s answer sounded a bit forced. Sherlock picked up on that.

“If there’s something, just tell me.” Sherlock tried again, but John kept quiet. Sherlock just sighed, not knowing what else to say.

“There’s not.” John answered, trying to ignore his feelings. It’s not like he didn’t want it, maybe Sherlock wasn’t ready or simply didn’t want to have sex.

“Oh, for god’s sake John. Stop lying!” Sherlock raised his voice a little, grabbing John’s attention. John’s desire just grew and he could feel himself getting hard again. “You forget who I am and I know when you’re lying.” John sighed and looked up.

“What do you want me to say?” he tried to ask as calmly as possible, but his voice was shaking a bit. He took quicker breaths.

“The truth.” Sherlock responded. John stayed still then put his book away not meeting Sherlock’s eyes.

“You’re right. There is something.” John finally said. Sherlock was growing a bit impatient.

“What is it?” his voice was softer than before. Then John looked up. His eyes were dark, full of desire.

“You.” John responded his voice really low, sending chills through Sherlock’s whole body and he felt a big throb in his pants. John took slow steps and stopped right in front of Sherlock. He then leaned in really quickly and kissed Sherlock with passion.

The kiss wasn’t simple. It was heated, full of desire and want. Sherlock could feel it all through the kiss, his own arousal growing really fast. John sat down on Sherlock’s lap. He started grinding a little bit which took Sherlock by surprise as he moaned which made John want to hear Sherlock make this sound more and louder. John took the opportunity and plunged his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth. He tasted every place his tongue could reach while grinding a bit harder, feeling Sherlock shudder, a wave of pleasure going through John himself.

John slowly reached Sherlock’s neck. He really loves this sweet and smooth skin of Sherlock’s. John kissed his way down, nibbling Sherlock’s sweet spot, licking his collarbone. Going back up a bit, John bit on his neck more violently, sure to leave a mark. Sherlock was panting, his arousal now as big as it can be, painfully trying to escape his pants. He arched up to get more friction, but John had him strangled and he could barely move.

“The things I want to do to you.” John hummed his voice as low as it could get. Sherlock let out a groan, trying to move again, but John suddenly stopped moving, making Sherlock whine.

“Do it.” Sherlock whispered his voice deep and barely audible. “Show me.” he added. John groaned and grind one last time, a bit harder, which made Sherlock arch up.

“Come with me.” said John and stood up, extending his hand towards Sherlock. Poor detective was such a mess, his breathing was fast. He slowly took John’s hand and Sherlock stood up, as they both made their way towards their bedroom. When the door was closed, John was suddenly against it as Sherlock attacked his lips and John let out a moan. Sherlock’s hands slowly travelled up and down John’s arms, settling down on John’s hips. He gripped John’s hips and pulled him closer. John’s hand stayed on Sherlock’s torso, hugging him.

John groaned and leaned back, breaking the kiss. He looked Sherlock in the eyes, not seeing their colour right now. John slowly took Sherlock’s face in his hands and the room around them changed, everything appearing in colour. John smiled and leaned in slowly, gently kissing Sherlock, with as much passion. They both closed their eyes, feeling heat radiating from each other, completely lost in the moment.

This time, Sherlock broke their kiss. He looked at his soulmate, drawing circles on John’s hips. Small smile appeared on his lips. John answered him, but his eyes were saying other things. His genuine smile turned into something else, as his pupils dilated more. The lust was back again and John looked dangerous.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” He said his voice low again. Sherlock took a slow breath, waiting for John’s next move. John’s hand slowly travelled down Sherlock’s chest, until he took a hold of his jacket which he took off, Sherlock eventually having to let John go. He looked up at Sherlock, whose eyes were shining, waiting, silent plea visible in his eyes that were full of lust, want, and love. John didn’t do anything else, searching Sherlock’s face for any sign of uncertainty. “Only if you’re sure.” he whispered and stroked Sherlock’s cheek. The detective leaned into the touch, his eyes never leaving John.

“I’ve never been so sure in my life.” John smiled. He knew Sherlock was lying. The detective was always sure about everything. But he still stood there not doing anything, even if his erection was throbbing and getting painful. Sherlock smiled as if knowing why John was waiting. “It’s not my first time, you know.” He added smugness in his voice. This calmed John down and he started slowly unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt.

“Women?” John asked.

“Men.” Sherlock answered, as John undid last button and threw his shirt away, looking at the exposed chest right in front of him. His hands started to slowly travel around Sherlock’s chest, sending goosebumps through his body. Sherlock felt warm hands running through his chest, everywhere it was exposed. Every touch felt like fire, the place burning when it was touched. It felt warm, safe.

“Thought so.” declared John. Sherlock looked up at John. He hooked a finger under John’s chin and made him look up. The detective leaned in to give John a passionate kiss, the doctor answering with as much passion. Their lips moved in sync, their bodies touching, melting, becoming like one.  

Sherlock took time to undress John too, taking his sweater off, breaking their kiss. He took off whole of John's top, his eyes lingering on John’s wound that was located on his shoulder. Sherlock leaned in to kiss it, John looking up, breathing in with his eyes closed. Sherlock leaned back up to look at John, his eyes wild, small smile on his. It was like a signal which John ignored and was taken by surprise when he felt a hand on his throbbing bulge. John instantly started moving, closing his eyes. He moaned and the sound made Sherlock even harder. John was panting, his knees getting weak. Sherlock smirked at this reaction while trying to ignore his own erection as much as possible for as long as he can, to give everything for the doctor. He wanted to show how much he loved John, how much he meant for Sherlock, he wanted to make the doctor feel good. John whimpered as his eyes shot open, when Sherlock pulled his hand away.

“Such a tease.” he said while Sherlock gave him a smirk. John’s eyes got dark. Sherlock’s not the only one who notices things. Of course, he notices smaller stuff, but John is observant too, even if not like the detective. Smug smile appeared on John’s face, as he spoke: “Undress me” His voice was demanding, loud and clear. Sherlock obeyed without giving it a second thought. He walked them both to bed, John falling on it. Sherlock hovered over the doctor for a bit, but quickly got back to his task when he heard a little bit louder voice saying: “ _Now._ ” Sherlock slowly took off John’s pants, leaving him with only underwear. Sherlock then slowly removed underwear too, John’s erection flying up, finally free and demanding attention. Sherlock took it in his hand, giving few strokes which did miracles as John started moving with his hand again.

“Bad morning?” Sherlock said, smirking. He deduced that earlier, but he had to ask. He had to hear that from John even if everything was just screaming a plain yes. John groaned in return and looked at Sherlock.

“Stop talking. You already deduced everything. Why wait?” John was right. Sherlock saw everything written on John’s face. He smiled a little and settled himself between John’s legs.

John closed his eyes and felt Sherlock’s lips on the tip of his cock. John groaned, as Sherlock took more of his cock into his mouth. He gripped the sheets, having to crave for this the whole day. Sherlock was going slow; flicking his tongue over the tip every time he reached the top.

“Faster!” moaned John. He tried moving, but Sherlock kept him still by his hip which was driving John insane. Sherlock kept his hand on John’s hip while other took John’s balls and he started massaging them. “Oh, oh god.” John moans as Sherlock sucks him deep and swallowing around him. John gasps, arching up. “Again!” Sherlock obeys John as he sinks down, swallowing again and making John cry out in pleasure.

The feeling is brilliant and John never felt something so much more amazing than this. He’s such a mess, gripping sheets as hard as possible. Sherlock sinks deep again, John’s cock hitting his throat, which makes John arch up again.

“Ah! Oh god… Sherl…” He can feel himself being close, but still not enough. John can’t stop himself but put his hands on Sherlock’s head and pressing a little bit down. He feels Sherlock hum, driving John to the edge. “Oh fuck. Oh, Sherlock… More!” John starts chanting Sherlock’s name, the detective’s grip on John’s hip loosening. John was in control. He knew it. The submissiveness of Sherlock made John’s cock throb. He listened to every word John told him, every command.

John thrusts into Sherlock’s mouth, the detective letting out a little gag noise. This is unbelievable. John never thought he could feel this good. He never thought _Sherlock_ could make him feel this good. But here he was, losing his mind over something he never thought of actually happening. No sex with any other women or men made John feel so good just like Sherlock did right now. His mouth, oh god, it did wonders.

Sherlock looks up at John, who has his eyes closed. His hair are a mess, sweat on his head and body shining in this dim light and he just looks gorgeous in any way only John could. And Sherlock loved it.

Without John expecting, Sherlock slips one finger into John’s arsehole. “Ah! Oh god, oh fuck!” John gasps as he feels Sherlock pick up a pace with his finger. John grips Sherlock’s hair and yanks them up, the detective letting out a moan. Sherlock felt just little bit of pain, but it made him crave John more. He could feel his own cock pressing into his pants and Sherlock wondered how long will he go without touching himself.

Sherlock slips in another finger, stretching John. The doctor starts moving with Sherlock’s fingers, trying to get as much friction as he can. He was close, he could feel it. After fingering John long enough, Sherlock slips another finger in, making John cry out in pleasure. It was so much, much more than John dreamed off.

Suddenly, Sherlock stood up, leaving John on bed, craving for his climax and so, so close. Sherlock’s cock was hurting, it had to be touched.

“What the hell?!” John almost shouts when he feels Sherlock leave him. He opens his eyes to see a naked detective standing besides the bed, his thrown across the room. John sits up and reaches for Sherlock’s cock and feels him shudder under John’s touch. But the detective doesn’t give in. He slowly gets rid of John’s hand, quickly putting a condom and then hovers over the doctor.

“I think you are ready.” Sherlock voiced his thoughts and John was about to ask him what he was ready for, when he felt cold fingers in him and soon enough, Sherlock’s cock entering him and he moaned louder. Sherlock let a strangled sound out, as he thrust into his soulmate. “You’re mine and mine only.” Sherlock whispered into John’s ear. The doctor whimpered, squirming under Sherlock.

“Only yours.” whispered John, out of breath, panting and moaning again. Sherlock started moving faster, picking up a pace. “Sherlock, oh god.” Sherlock sinks in deep, which feels magical.

“God, John. So beautiful and amazing.” Sherlock groaned, moving deeper. John clenches around him, making the detective groan, feeling so good. For few moments the room was silent, the only sound was their sweaty skins slapping together once in a while. Then John muttered something under his breath that Sherlock didn’t quite catch. “What did you say? Don’t keep it in yourself, tell me.” John took a deep breath, trying to voice his thoughts, but the only thing he could think of is Sherlock’s cock going in and out of him. He tried biting his lip, but it didn’t work, he needed to say this.

“Ah! I… I was saying… t-that…” John took another deep breath, moaning again. “Oh god, Sherlock. Please, let me come!” Sherlock smirked, thrusting harder into John.

“No, not yet.” John whimpered, needing oh so desperately to come. He slowly took his own cock in his hands, making just few strokes, when Sherlock quickly pulls his hand away, pinning them both over his head. “No, me. I will make you come.” Sherlock whispers, his voice deeper than ever, close to John’s ear, making him shudder.

John could feel Sherlock’s hot breath on his neck. The detective leaned in, to bite hard on John’s neck, making sure to leave a mark, to show everybody who he belongs to. He leaned back up to meet his eyes with John, the doctor seeing colours dance in the detective’s eyes. His eyes were magic. Sherlock leaned in to kiss John, his thrust becoming slower. Without John expecting, Sherlock thrusted hard into John, finding his prostate and making John let out a sound, which didn’t sound like a moan or a groan. It was more like an animal howl.

“Please, Sherlock…” John whispered. He could barely speak, he was so desperate to come that his vision started to go white. His throat was sore; he could feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. It was too good, it was all too good.

“It’s ok, I got you.” said Sherlock, he could feel his climax right here. He looked at John, at the mess he made, not regretting anything. Slowly, Sherlock took John’s cock in his hand, stroking it and thrusting faster and deeper into John. “Let it go.”

“Ah! ” John screamed, powerful orgasm washing over him, his seed spilling on Sherlock’s hand and John’s stomach. The view made Sherlock come, he reached his climax, groaning John’s name. He rode his orgasm out, slowly stroking John for him to ride out his own.

Sherlock slowly laid down next to John, both out of breath and panting. Sherlock snuggled next to John, hugging him, their bodies both burning. John leaned in, putting his face into Sherlock’s fluffy hair. They didn’t talk. No words were needed. After a while, John stood up and walked to bathroom, taking a towel to clean them both. After he was finished, he found the detective sleeping. John smiled and took the sheets, covering their naked bodies.

“I love you.” whispered John, as he stroked Sherlock’s hair. He left a gentle kiss on the detective’s forehead, thanking him silently. Then he laid closer to Sherlock, the detective, even asleep, snuggling closer to John and hugging him. John closed his eyes and smiled.

This was good. It was perfect.

It was everything John wanted in his life.

Love and his soulmate next to him. Alive and breathing. Loving him back.

This was all John wanted.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this and being here! For your nice comments and for kudos :)  
> It was really hard to write this chapter (mostly smut since it's my first time), but here I am, finally posted!
> 
> Don't give up on this story just yet, there will still be a surprise ;)


	9. Escape Alternative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if all you read was a lie?  
> What if this was the ending?  
> What if it all ended like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy reading :)

The wait was killing.

Every day, every hour, every minute John was expecting for something to happen. He was expecting for Sherlock to wake up. Holding Sherlock's hand, sitting next to him and waiting.

Waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and hoping for a miracle to happen.

But nothing was happening.

The heart monitor showed that Sherlock was alive, but that's all John knew.

Mrs. Hudson came to visit Sherlock. She didn't say anything; she just stood next to John, gripping his shoulder tightly. After 10 minutes or so, she quietly walked away, silently crying. John hasn't seen her since. She came back after a month, but it was even harder for her to stay calm so John had to lead her back to Baker Street.

Greg also came to visit. He tried making small talk with John, but it was as if talking to a wall. John reminded him of Sherlock again. Greg stopped trying. It was hurting him too. After all, Sherlock was his friend and right now he was in a coma that could end no matter when. And John's resemblance to Sherlock was like a reminder that the one Greg was reminded of was actually in coma.

Mycroft was here too. He came to visit at least once a week, sometimes visiting two days in a row. The image of Sherlock all beaten up and in coma was unbearable. One time, Mycroft walked out to sit in the waiting room. Sentiments never got better of him, but this time knowing that his little brother might never wake up... Well, it broke him into pieces. He kept cool and collected, but he was breaking apart, even if nobody saw it. But Sherlock would have been able to see it.

After some time, John finally left Sherlock's side to go and talk to Mycroft. He knew that Mycroft wasn't here just to see his brother. But John was wrong: Mycroft actually came here to see his brother, also having some news, but his intentions were to visit Sherlock. He didn't come here to tell him all of that, but since John thought so, he told what he knew.

"Moriarty is dead." he started. Mycroft swore he saw a little hint of smile on John's face but it was gone really quickly. "We found his twin brother's body too. They won't be a headache anymore. Unless somebody takes their place which I don't believe will happen." John nodded and sat down next to Mycroft.

"What about Mary?" John asked. During this time, in hospital, John lost respect for her. He didn't care about her anymore. She was nothing.

"She was shot. Didn't lose that much blood, but was still taken to hospital. She is never left alone; there is at least one officer with her. After Mary recovers, we will take her to the prison. I made sure she never leaves." John let out little a breath. He started hating her. If it wasn't for her, Sherlock wouldn't be in coma right now.

"Do your parents know?" John asked his voice barely audible, almost like a whisper, but enough for Mycroft to hear. Mycroft didn't look at him, but John knew that they didn't. John only nodded and stood up to walk back to Sherlock.

"If he wakes up..." John stopped and looked at Mycroft and saw him looking at him. I hope you will be there. "...give me a call." John only gave a small nod and went back to Sherlock.

 

* * *

 

There he was. Lying on the bed and not moving. The only thing ensuring that Sherlock was alive was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

John slowly walked back to his seat. He sat on the chair that was on Sherlock's left. John looked at the detective and felt as if he was in his mind palace, not moving and thinking. John could almost imagine that, but the oxygen mask was the only thing proving that the image was not real and this is in fact the reality. Sherlock's not in his mind palace. He is in coma. Maybe a never ending one.

It's been already a month. One month without Sherlock. It felt like ten years. By that time, John had realized a lot of things. Things he was scared of. Maybe that would scare others too. He wasn't sure. He didn't know what to do. John was lost.

John just took Sherlock's hand again, slowly tracing circles with his thumb. He sighed and looked at the detective. A few curls were falling on Sherlock's face and John softly, but hesitantly, brushed them on the left side. John could feel cold skin under his fingertips and a shiver went down his spine.

John let go of Sherlock's hand and just sat there, looking at the detective. Everything around him was silent; the only sound was the heart monitor. John slowly looked up at the heart monitor and saw no change in it. The same pulse, rhythmic heart beat. Nothing new. And like this for a whole month.

There was door opening behind John. Somebody entered the room but the doctor didn't care that much to turn around and see who came.

"John, you should rest." said a solid voice behind him. John closed his eyes and looked down. He didn't want to leave. Not now. "I promise to keep an eye on him. He won't go anywhere when you come back. You need to rest." Mycroft added. John gave him a small nod and stood up. He lingered for a bit, just looking at Sherlock. Finally, John turned around, took his coat and walked out.

It was hard to leave him, but Mycroft was right. John needed a little bit of rest. Since that night, John always slept in hospital, besides Sherlock. He woke up for any movement, expecting it to be Sherlock but to only find out it was a nurse. John did leave hospital to go and change clothes, take a bath, sometimes eat, but he never spent over five hours out of hospital.

This time, he will only come back in the morning. John has nothing to worry about. Mycroft is there, Sherlock is safe. It's his brother after all.

 

John finally arrived at 221b. After Mary and everything, he didn't come back to his house, instead always ending up in Baker Street. As if John knew that something will happen, he had his clothes and other stuff packed. He was ready to leave Mary. He was ready for her to slip. And after all she did.

The doctor took a long shower, made himself dinner. Visited Mrs. Hudson, had tea with her and a little chat, although it was hard to talk with her, since half of the time she was worrying about Sherlock and crying. It wasn't helping John either.

When the clock passed ten p.m., John finally decided to sleep. Without even noticing, he already stood in Sherlock's bedroom. He couldn't help himself, but John slowly lay down. He felt as if Sherlock was sleeping next to him. The whole bed, the whole room was filled with him. John closed his eyes, with peace in his chest and had a peaceful sleep without any nightmares. It was only a little bit more than four hours, but at least John felt rested.

 

* * *

 

Two month, two weeks and one day.

That's how many days Sherlock was in coma. And with every day the number grew. That was the part John hated. The growing number.

John walked back into the hospital, the view he already got used to. He slowly made his way to the right room where Sherlock was. Quietly opening the door, John found Mycroft sitting next to his brother, holding his hand. It was as if Mycroft was talking to his baby brother. And he was. John slowly closed the door and walked back to sit next to the door, giving Mycroft some personal space.

After some time, Mycroft walked out and looked at John. He gave him a small nod and left. John walked back to Sherlock, taking his usual place.

It was too silent. Too silent for such a long time. He hated this room; he hated the silence and the only sound in the room. He hated it all.

John's eyes found Sherlock. He didn't have an oxygen mask right now, so John could see his full face. Sherlock looked so peaceful and beautiful, even in this state. But John knew better. Just by thinking how much pain he went through. Getting shot two times, the pain is unbearable. John himself was shot only one time. Sherlock didn't deserve to be shot any times at all, but it was all Mary. John could feel tears in his eyes. Slowly, he took Sherlock's hand in his own. Inhaling deeply, John decided to speak. He was over flown with everything and it was getting too much. He had to speak; he had to say at least something, even if Sherlock won't hear him. But does he want Sherlock hear what he has to say? John wasn't sure.

"Sherlock-" The doctor was loss for words. He had a lot to say, but couldn't find the right words to express what he actually felt. "I'm sorry." was what he first said, or rather whispered, after some time of silence. "I'm sorry, that we had to end up here. I just wish... Right now, I just wish to go back. I-I want to have never met Mary. Maybe if I didn't meet her, you wouldn't be here, lying unconscious." John's voice was getting weak. "I just wish to change some things. I still don't understand why you didn't tell me. I-I lost you, Sherlock. For two whole years. I thought you were actually dead." his voice broke in the end a bit. "I'm sorry I was angry at you. I regret that." The doctor looked away.

There was no response, but it was not like John was expecting one. So he continued.

"When Mary shot you... W-When I thought I will lose you, again. Sherlock-" John turned back to look at the detective, his eyes full of tears and he was shaking just a little bit. "Sherlock, I heard your heart stop. I saw when it happened. I thought that this time, this time I will actually lose you." John took a sharp breath.

No answer. No change. Nothing.

"I can't lose you again. I can't. Not anymore. I need you. I-I always did. It never changed. I wish you could know how much you changed my life. I felt as if seeing colours." He let out a small laugh. "That time when I checked your pulse after you jumped... I saw colours. I did. Even if just for a second, but I did. Now I know." John smiled and looked back at Sherlock. "They were so bright. But now I know. I know for sure." John closed his eyes and looked down.

"I can't lose you. Sherlock, do you hear me? Don't leave me. Don't you dare. Not anymore. I-I need you." He let out a shaky breath. "Come back to me. P-Please. Don't leave me alone. Just come back." John kept his eyes closed, his head down. He was holding onto Sherlock's hand as if it was his life. Then John inhaled deeply. "I-I love you, Sherlock." John managed to say in whisper.

And there was a response.

 

* * *

 

He heard it. Heard it all. Voices. They were all around him. Talking and saying things. He couldn't make out anything, but he knew that he wasn't alone.

And he always felt something warm. On his hand. It was always there. Sometimes it would disappear and it would be cold all over again. He could feel himself slipping away. But then the warmth always came back, and he was holding on it.

And so it went like that.

He was somewhere in between. Never getting tired. Oh, he would give so much away to at least open his eyes or move. Not moving was boring. Dull.

He tried. Hard. To move his hand, head, feet, anything. He wanted to scream: “I'm here!“ But it was as if his body was refusing to do anything. And so he had to fight.

That one night he felt strong enough to finally do something. He tried and tried and tried, but nothing happened. He wanted to give up, but he never gave up. So he tried again, but no use. He was stuck with no way out.

Then he heard it.

The soft voice.

Like a lullaby.

It was here. So close. He could try and reach it. And he did try.

He heard the voice louder. Now he knew it was working. So he tried again.

But everything was so confusing. The voice seemed familiar. But he had no idea who it was. It felt awfully familiar. That was all he knew.

But he had to fight. He had to wake up.

He heard the voice even louder, but still couldn't figure out what it was saying. But that didn't stop him from trying. He decided to focus on something simple, like moving a finger.

Everything was so clear now. He also heard beeping. It was rhythmic.

He was keeping a hold of that. He won't lose it this time. But the darkness around him started to consume again, trying to silence the voice. But he had to hold on. All of this was getting boring.

He could breathe in. He felt everything. He was back. Everything was back. He could feel the pain but it didn't matter.

"I-I love you, Sherlock." He heard a whisper and slowly opened his eyes. He was blinded a bit, but he quickly recognized the place he was at. Everything white around him and that smell of disinfection.

Sherlock blinked few times. He tried to move his hand and felt something warm on his left. He looked down to see someone, with his eyes closed and head down, holding his hand, shaking slightly. He didn't say anything. Sherlock didn't know what to say. Did he have to say something?

John heard a change. Something changed. He slowly raised his head to look at the heart monitor and then noticed Sherlock looking at him. The doctor was met with beautiful eyes. Colours were mixing together and you couldn't make out what true colour it was. Sherlock slowly looked down to see his hand intertwined with John's. It was comforting for Sherlock, but he slowly let go if John's hand. Their hands suddenly went cold after the loss of contact. John was taken back after this movement. The colours around him slowly faded and John was left with black and white again. He then looked curiously at Sherlock, but saw a confused look on his face.

"Why did you do that?" John looked and whispered more to himself. Even if Sherlock heard him, he probably ignored the question and said nothing. John looked back at Sherlock to see his face a bit twisted and it was obvious that Sherlock was thinking and looking into nothing. "What are you doing?" John asked instead. The detective blinked few times and looked back at the doctor. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry." He said silently. "I tend to do that. Stare into space and say nothing." John sighed and answered:

"I know." Sherlock looked at him confused.

"You do?" he asked. John didn't know if Sherlock was joking.

"Of course I do." he answered a bit annoyed. But he noticed something. Something changed in Sherlock. He was more vulnerable, his eyes were running around the place and it was obvious he was thinking, trying to figure out something. Sherlock looked like a lost child. And he felt like that.

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked John. The doctor looked at him confused, but he seemed to get what was going on and his heart sank. "No, wrong question." Sherlock whispered and looked back at John again. "The right question is: who are you?" That was when John stopped breathing. He stood up and stumbled back a bit.

"Yo-you don't remember me?" John slowly asked, still expecting for Sherlock to smile and tell him he was just joking. But Sherlock just kept looking at John, deducing.

"Am I supposed to?" Sherlock answered a question with a question. John looked away, his eyes closed, his breathing becoming quick as he tried to calm down.

"I will just go. I'm sorry to disturb you." John said and left the room as quickly as possible. Then John went to find Sherlock's doctor. When he did, he told the doctor that Sherlock was awake and he didn't miss the fact that Sherlock didn't remember more than three years of his life. While doctor was checking on Sherlock, he called Mycroft. The doctor didn't tell him anything; John figured it would be easier to tell him when he is in hospital. When Mycroft arrived, it was more like he deduced everything just from John's expression, but John still told him everything which left Mycroft speechless.

John decided to just go. He had nothing to do here anymore. Even if John tried to become friends all over again with Sherlock, there was just a little chance that Sherlock will fall in love with John. Maybe he wasn't in love with John in the first place. Now John will never know. Because it was all over.

Their stories were over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter and this was just an idea of another way to end this story :D
> 
> But don't worry, this wasn't the last surprise.
> 
> As an apology, I will post another surprise next week so stay tuned!


	10. Colourblind No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One peaceful day Sherlock invites John to have a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is guys! Last chapter. This time for real.
> 
> Enjoy this fluff :)

It was a very peaceful morning for everybody. The sun was up high already, no clouds in sight. It was also unusually warm in this time of the year.

John slowly opened his eyes to see his soulmate silently sleeping. He looked peaceful and calm. John had never seen Sherlock this calm and relaxed. He in fact never saw Sherlock while he was sleeping. It was always Sherlock who woke up first. John smiled, taking a closer look at Sherlock. He saw a man he loved the most in the world and it was still unbelievable that John had some place in that brilliant mind of Sherlock's.

John's smile never faded as he was gazing at Sherlock. It was still a big unbelievable thought that Sherlock was sleeping longer than John himself. It was probably the recent case they had. Sherlock barely slept nor ate and the case wasn't one of the easiest.

The doctor slowly got out of the bed as to not wake up Sherlock. He took one last glance at the sleeping detective and walked out of their room, with clothes in his hands. There was no use to change his clothes as he was going to take a quick shower. 

Finally fresh and clean, John walked into the kitchen to make breakfast. While he was making simple toasts with tea, his mind wandered a bit further from the world and he has lost himself in his mind.

John and Sherlock were finally together. It has been exactly three months since they became a couple. John was happy to finally admit to himself, finally accept it, finally realize. He did not care if that meant that he was a gay man or bisexual. All he knew was that he loved Sherlock. And there were no drastic changes in their lives. They still solved crimes together, sometimes had little arguments that lasted for just a little amount of time, the tensions always ending really quickly, one of them apologizing and the other forgiving right away. Sherlock still did his experiments, John still got irritated by body parts all around the house. It was just like old times, this time they both were more open to each other.

Now their lives included cases, adrenaline, love. Nothing changed, really, just that there were a lot of sneaky kisses, comforting hugs, cuddles, bigger and brighter smiles, more dinners, heated moments in bedroom. It was all comforting. Everything was in place, it was calm, except for the cases part. But their lives couldn't be any better.

Just thinking about Sherlock made John smile to himself and he felt little tingles in his stomach. Slowly going back to reality, he also heard slow steps. Just then Sherlock slowly walked out of their bedroom.

John turned around to see a messy head, with night gown lazily dropped around the detective's shoulders. This was all new to John, since he had never seen Sherlock who was just out of bed. Sherlock was still in his pyjamas, barefoot. As John walked towards Sherlock, the detective yawned and looked around, his eyes finally locking with John's.

John finally reached the sleepy figure standing in the doorway and welcomed him with a morning kiss. Sherlock smiled into the kiss, feeling soft lips against his and the tingling feeling in his chest getting bigger.

"Get ready, I'm making breakfast." John said, taking a little step back so he could look at Sherlock. Sherlock smirked lazily and answered:

"I'm not hungry." John gave him a little smile, then he walked to kettle, turned it off and poured boiling water into two teacups.

"You should be." he said and turned over his shoulder to look at Sherlock. "You haven't eaten in days." he added. Sherlock let out a little sigh. He knew there was no use to argue with his doctor. So he walked back to their room to change.

After breakfast, they both sat in their chairs, in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, John started talking, disturbing the peaceful silence.

"Are we doing anything today?" he asks Sherlock. The detective's face is blank for few second, but it suddenly lights up. John knows this face, it means Sherlock has an idea. Sherlock then quickly jumped out of his seat and took his coat. "So are we?" John asked again, this time Sherlock turned to him.

"We are going for a walk." After he got his answer, John stood up and took his own coat too. They both walked out of 221B, locking the door behind them. John stood, waiting for Sherlock's next move.

"And what now?" he asked, you could feel impatiences in John’s voice. Sherlock turned to look at John and smiled.

"And now we walk." he answered and took John's hand in his. The world instantly changed around them and every thing got their own colour. They both stood in awe, looking around, seeing things as they are for the first time. The world around them was beautifully bright and colourful. Sherlock looked up to see the sky and he instantly recognized the colour. He has seen that colour before. The sky had the same colour John's eyes were. Sherlock turned back to see John gazing around, taking everything in. Sherlock slowly brought their united hands up to his lips and left a little kiss on John's hand, then turned to walk, nudging John slightly.

They both made their way around the town, choosing random streets just to see everything. John never expected for telephone booths and buses to be such a bright colour and he would say a bit harsh to look at.

The world around them was full of colours, ones were bright, others dark, some were less bright than the original..

"Do you think we could learn them all?" Sherlock asked. John looked up at him, but Sherlock was looking around. "Colours, John. Do you think we could learn all of their names?" he tried again and turned to look at John a bit.

"Do colours even have names?" John chuckled a bit, but Sherlock kept serious.

"I am certain that colours are supposed to have names." Sherlock argued and John just chuckled again. He squeezed Sherlock's hand a bit and they continued to walk in silence.

Sherlock had dreamed of this moment all his life. When he was just a little boy, his Mummy used to tell him how she and dad could see colours when they both touched. He always asked her to tell him how the colours look, but she just smiled and said that they were beautiful. Sherlock would smile and then he would go to the garden, running around and imagining that he saw all colours. Once he promised Mummy to see colours too. And he did. After such a long waiting, he did.

They both walked in silence, taking in this magical moment and enjoying just being so close to each other.

"Did you know..." John spoke breaking the silence once again. "...that your eyes have several colours?" He finished and looked up at Sherlock. The detective smiled without looking at his doctor and said:

"While your eyes are holding the sky." John chuckled again and Sherlock's smile grew bigger. There was nothing better than to hear John laughing.

"Since when are you so poetic?" John asked him, his eyes fixing on few flowers. Sherlock just shrugged and they kept walking in silence again.

Sherlock saw grass and it was such a wonderful colour. He really wanted to find out their names and learn them all. His mind was running, trying to figure out, maybe remember any mention of colour name Mummy might have said, but he found nothing.

John on the other hand was thinking about Sherlock again. He actually never stops thinking about him. Sherlock’s hand felt warm against his own and he didn't feel so weird holding Sherlock's hand in public. Not anymore. Why would it bother him? This is the man he loved since they first met and now he is able to hold his hand in public, knowing that he belong to Sherlock and only him. He also felt reassured that Sherlock was still here and that he never left.

Sometimes Sherlock feared to wake up and find an empty flat. He feared that one day John might just leave, because he is angry with Sherlock or got really annoyed by him. That's why Sherlock always apologized to John after an argument really quickly, because he feared that if John stayed angry at him any longer, he would leave. That's why Sherlock always jumped out of bed if John wasn't there. He would walk around the flat looking for John and he would always find him in the bathroom or kitchen, making tea. Then he would silently go back to their room. But Sherlock grew more confident and now he didn't fear so much anymore.

There were times, when John felt like Sherlock will get bored of him. And all these beautiful moments will be just a memory. But Sherlock proved so many times just how much he loves John, that John never doubted him. 

Those thoughts never left him. They were always here. Once an idea is planted, it can never be removed.

John didn't stop thinking about everything, not until he heard Sherlock silently laughing. He looked up as if asking why Sherlock was laughing.

"You know" Sherlock started. "Mummy always used to say that my eyes were special. That they were magical." He stopped walking and looked deep into John's eyes. "Turns out she was right." he said and leaned in slowly to kiss John. John answered instantly, closing his eyes. Sherlock gave him a passionate kiss and then leaned back. John smirked and opened his eyes as if saying 'You bastard.' Sherlock smiled knowing very well what John meant.

After another hour, or even two, they went back to Baker Street. They stopped right in front of the door. Sherlock was about to unlock the door when he got a message. John patiently waited for Sherlock to read it, but he already guessed who it was. After few seconds, Sherlock smiled and looked up at John.

  
"Lestrade?" John asked. Sherlock nodded and John quickly kissed him. He then pulled away, still holding Sherlock close to him and said: "You better solve this one." while Sherlock smirked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story! This is the final chapter and there will be no more surprises. I might write little one shot, I guess they will always take place after this chapter, so basically John and Sherlock will always be together. That's IF I was to write any more additional chapter. This was to pay for the pain the last one might have caused and I'm not sorry for that. But I hope you liked this story. Thank you again for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! <3


End file.
